Rage of Fire, Love of Daughter
by rantandrumour
Summary: When Alex is blown to the present, nothing is as it seems. Meanwhile Gene is trying desperately to get her back and solve who did it. As the days are counting down for them both, will Alex be able to get back to 1983, or will she choose Molly?
1. Prologue: Hours Before

**This'll all be AU, as this will be updated for a few weeks into Series three, which is THIS WEEK people! *throws party* Anyway, I don't own Ashes at all *sob* just this plot and such. Thanks to Rolephant as always for being brilliant, even when she can't scroll on the screen :P**

**Prologue: Hours Before**

They say that people come into your life for a reason. Some are there just briefly, and when you think about them later, you can't remember the colour of their hair, let alone their name. People like that, you don't realise that they are there at all. These people could be the people that blended into the crowd at school, the ones that are just a part of the scenery at the office. They're important to someone, but to you, they're just another face, another body.

Then there are the ones who stay in your life permanently. Some come through the door to your life kindly, knocking on the door before you'll let them in. Others come into your life kicking the door down. They force themselves firmly in place, and no matter how hard you try to remove them, they keep coming back. They annoy you at first, but then, the longer they are in your life, you grow to respect them, and sometimes even love them.

And then there are the ones that kick the door down, and you shoo them out. You never want to see them again, so you replace your door, and lock it tight. You seal all the windows to your house, but as you sit down on the sofa, they are sitting across from you. You wonder how they got in, and you realise. As you were building all those barriers around your house, they snuck in quietly, through the unlocked side door. And you sit there and stare at the person who your house is supposed to be protected from, and realise. It is rather lonely in that house. And you are glad that the person snuck in, so you have company with you in that loneliness; and you can't imagine your life without them.

Gene Hunt is an example of the latter. He's the one that broke the door down into my life, staying in my life, no matter how hard I tried to shove him out. I locked all the doors and windows of my life, shutting him out. But somehow, he still got inside. He stood and stared at me as I went to sit on my sofa, to congratulate myself on a job well done. He grinned at me as I pondered how he got into my house, my life, when I tried so hard to keep him out. And then I realised, too late, that it would be too lonely in my life without him. He was the one that was supposed to keep me company in my loneliness, but he couldn't.

It's been years since I last saw Gene Hunt, but still, I think about him, I wish I could speak to him. But I know that will never happen again. Thirty years separate the time I last saw him and now. But I can never forget my final day with him. And now here, in 2013, I know that my Gene Hunt, my constant, was the one who was supposed to keep me company. There is no one else planning to get into my house against my will. No one else will break the door down. No one else will sneak in through the side door. No one else will sit with me on my sofa, keeping me company as I realise how lonely I truly am. Everyone here is too polite. They all knock at the door, and then they leave as I lock them out. None of them are willing to sneak in or to break the door down. I miss Gene. Even though he was a sexist, racist, homophobic dinosaur, he was _my _sexist, racist homophobic dinosaur. Sam said it best. There is truly no man like Gene Hunt anywhere in the world. He beat men up without a thought, innocent or guilty, but if you as much as touched a guilty woman, he would yell himself blue at you.

I remember vividly the last day I walked with him. It was sunny. It was bright. I was happy. So was he. But that had all changed. One loud noise, one explosion can change even the most perfect day. And it ruined my perfect day. The day turned into fear and panic. There were screams of the people down below and of the above. No one knew it was going to happen except the man that caused it.

There were children below. The children shouldn't have been there. Molly shouldn't have been there. But I saw her. I saw my little girl! And there was the explosion, and Gene and I parted ways, never to be reunited again.

Now that we have gone our separate ways, I can't believe that I had ever wished I could be without him. The years have not been kind. They pull and tug at memories, trying to warp them, trying to cover them up.

And as I leave this house I am in, pushing open the front door, I can feel it the years try and tug at my memories of Gene. Of how he rescued me when I first arrived. How he protected me, sometimes against my will. Of how he always seemed to know what was best for me, even when I thought it was something completely different. The years tug at the memories of his features. Of his bright silvery blue eyes. Of his beautiful blonde hair, always seeming to be windswept. Trying to remove the memory of his gorgeous pout, the one his face always set into when he didn't get his way. Trying to remove the memory of the jealous flicker in his eyes when I got attention from any other man but him. But now, stepping into the sunshine of this bright day to complete my mission, I know that Gene Hunt will never be forgotten, because he has to exist.

My name is Alex Drake. I was shot, and that bullet took me back in time. I was lost in 1981, 1982, and 1983 but I knew I had to fight, and search, and stay alive, because somehow I would find my way home.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1: 10,954 Days Before

**Thanks to Rolephant who keeps me *somewhat* sane. :) THanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! AAAAND! TWO DAYS!**

**Chapter 1: 10,954 Days Before**

It was bright and sunny. The air was perfect. The sky was a clear blue, and no one wanted to be inside, least of all the group of CID stuck inside doing paperwork. Alex Drake looked up wearily for the third time in ten minutes to stare out the window.

"Drake! My office! Now!" She groaned inwardly. Gene had obviously caught her lack of attention, and was now going to reprimand her for it. She stood, and walked quietly into his office, shutting the door softly behind her.

Alex looked at Gene, surprised to see a small smirk on his face. "Enjoying the weather, Bolly?"

"I wish I could," she sighed wistfully, looking into his eyes, noting that there was something different about them. They almost seemed nervous.

His eyes had changed from a silvery blue to a steely grey. Alex knew that something was going on in his head.

"What's going on?" she asked again, perching herself on his desk, leaning against his computer.

"Nothing, really," he muttered. She could tell that something was getting to him and he was embarrassed. She tried to be as sympathetic as she could without having him notice she was using psychology on him.

"Are you sure Gene? You look a little nervous." He looked down at the floor, and Alex wondered what had gotten him like this.

"It's not anything. You know what Drake? Just go back to your desk. I'm a complete twat for calling you in here in the first place."

"Gene," she said desperately referring to his first name in the hope he'd let her in. "Something's going on with you. What is it?"

He stared at her, and she could swear the corners of his lips were twitching slightly. "You never give up, do you Bollinger Knickers?"

"No," she said, smiling.

"And if I don't tell you, I'm gonna have to listen to you nag me all day, aren't I?"

Alex smiled and nodded, and she could swear she saw a flicker of amusement show behind his still steely grey eyes. "C'mon Gene! Just tell me! What's going on?"

"It's nothing really that big," he answered honestly. "It just sorta... well..."

"_What is it, Gene?" _she asked, growing exasperated.

He stared at her. "Are you a C or D cup?" he blurted suddenly.

Alex rolled her eyes, and looked at him. "Is that all?" she asked icily. She watched him, and realised that he was beating himself up internally.

"That's not what you wanted to ask me Gene, was it?"

He stared at her and scratched his neck. He turned away uncomfortably and stared out the window, opening it. "S'a little hot in here."

Alex almost smiled. She loved it when Gene got nervous around her. It broke through the hard exterior he had built himself, and Alex loved to get any glimpse of the man that lay underneath.

"Gene," she asked. "What did you really want to say?"

"Erm... well... Remember that thing we did the day before the Prices snuffed it?"

"You mean the date we had?" she asked him, bristling internally at his casual mention of her parents.

"Yeah, that," he replied, looking down at the floor. "Well, here's the thing. I was thinking, and it didn't really go the way either of us wanted it to, did it?"

Alex smiled softly. He was right. If her parents weren't scheduled to die the night after, she would have taken him up to her flat immediately upon his offer.

"You're right," she answered. Gene continued to stare at the floor, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Well, I was, err, wondering if you'd...erm...like to go on another?" he asked rushing the end of his sentence.

"Another date?"

"It was just an idea," he said quickly. "I know, you think it's ridiculous, you can tell me to piss off now. I'm sorry Alex, I just..."

"I'd love to," she said cutting him off.

"Really?" he said, looking up and trying to prevent himself from grinning.

"Yeah," she replied honestly.

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure! Where are we going?"

"Somewhere posh." Alex smiled as he gave a small grin back. His shoulders seemed a little straighter. She walked out of his office in a daze. It seemed as though worms were crawling in her stomach. She was going on another date with Gene. She could hardly wait for tonight now. Alex smiled. It was going to go better than their first one. Of that, she was sure.

~(*)~

Gene watched as Alex looked out the window for the third time in five minutes. He didn't blame her. It was pure torture to be stuck inside, looking out on all the people free to walk around. He wished someone would call in with a tip off, so that they could get out of the office. Unfortunately, no one had all day.

"Drake! My office! Now!" Gene saw her close her eyes momentarily. She probably thought she was in trouble. Gene couldn't stop the small smirk from flitting across his face as she walked into his office, so sure that she was going to get a bollocking. She closed the door behind her and looked at him.

"Enjoying the weather, Bolly?" He tried to ask this as seriously as possible, but surely she could hear the nervousness in his voice as he contemplated what he was about to do.

"I wish I could," she sighed wistfully.

Could he do this? He had hardly been able to do this the last time he had asked her out. After their first and only date, how was he supposed to ask her out again? It had been nearly two years since.

"What's going on?" she asked again, perching herself on his desk, leaning against his computer in her customary spot. God! She really was good as this psychiatry bollocks.

"Nothing, really," he muttered. He could do this. He had to do this. He had to ask her again. Just once more to see if it really wouldn't work out between them.

"Are you sure Gene? You look a little nervous." Damn! He had been trying to appear calm and collected. Apparently it hadn't worked.

"It's not anything. You know what Drake? Just go back to your desk. I'm a complete twat for calling you in here in the first place." Shit. She would catch on the fact that he had called _himself _a twat.

"Gene," she said desperately referring to his first name in the hope he'd let her in. "Something's going on with you. What is it?"

Gene tried to keep himself from smiling. She always had to get into his head didn't she? "You never give up, do you Bollinger Knickers?"

"No," she said, smiling.

"And if I don't tell you, I'm gonna have to listen to you nag me all day, aren't I?"

Alex smiled and nodded, and Gene felt amusement spreading through his belly before the knots replaced it once more. "C'mon Gene! Just tell me! What's going on?"

"It's nothing really that big," he answered honestly. "It just sorta... well..."

"_What is it, Gene?" _she asked, her voice growing exasperated. He could do this. He knew he could ask her.

He stared at her. "Are you a C or D cup?" Shit!

Alex rolled her eyes, and looked at him. "Is that all?" she asked icily. What kind of idiot was he? Why was the first thing he thought of her tits? Alex made to leave, but then stopped.

"That's not what you wanted to ask me Gene, was it?" God she was good.

He stared at her and scratched his neck. He was hot, but could not take off his suit jacket for fear she'd see how much he'd been sweating in his nervousness. He opened a window to cool himself off. "S'a little hot in here."

He saw the twitch of a smile on her lips. God, was she enjoying this? If she was, he was glad that one of them was, because he certainly wanted to crawl into the nearest scotch bottle, which just so happened to be in his drawer.

"Gene," she asked. "What did you really want to say?"

"Erm... well... Remember that thing we did the day before the Prices snuffed it?"

"_Shit. Insensitive. Bad Gene!" _he thought inwardly.

"You mean the date we had?" she asked him.

"Yeah, that," he replied, looking down at the floor. "Well, here's the thing. I was thinking, and it didn't really go the way either of us wanted it to, did it?"

Well, at least not the way _he _had wanted it too. If he had ended it, they would have been in her flat the rest of the night.

"You're right," she answered. Really? She didn't like the way it had gone before either?

"Well, I was, err, wondering if you'd...erm...like to go on another?" he asked rushing the end of his sentence. Oh god! Why was he doing this?

"Another date?" He knew she would say no. Why did he even ask her in the first place? God, he was an idiot. He had to cover now.

"It was just an idea," he said quickly. "I know, you think it's ridiculous, you can tell me to piss off now. I'm sorry Alex, I just..."

"I'd love to," she said cutting him off. What? She _would _go?

"Really?" he said, looking up into her eyes and seeing nothing but honesty.

"Yeah," she replied honestly.

"I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure! Where are we going?"

"Somewhere posh." Alex smiled as he gave a small grin back. In truth, he had no bloody idea and four hours to make reservations at somewhere posh. He stared at her desk. She looked quite dumbfounded, but pleased, he thought excitedly. Maybe this date would go better than their previous one. Gene knew all he could do was hope, and not make too many comments about her knickers.

~(*)~

Alex stood, staring in the mirror, trying to decide whether or not she looked too tarty. Gene would like her outfit, she mused. Of course, Gene would like it if she turned into work in a tablecloth. The thing was, she wanted to impress him. This was their first date of sorts, even if it really was their second. The first time, she had been so excited to go home, back to Molly. She had thought that the next day would be her way out, and she couldn't concentrate on the meal. She could barely register the change Gene had gone through. He was still sexist, but he seemed more considerate of her opinion. He seemed to enjoy the comments she made, instead of making fun of them.

It had been soon after that night that she had started pondering the possibility that Gene may possibly not be a construct. Could he be real? If he wasn't, why didn't she just leave him as a sexist, racist dinosaur, instead of this man who seemed to have actual feelings behind his crude jokes and superiority complex?

She hadn't realised that she was falling in love with him until it was too late. She had fallen, hard, and now wasn't sure if she wanted to go back. She had come to love her construct world, if they were really constructs. That was another question she had. If it was all fake, how come they all seemed so real? How could she feel every single pain she should feel if she was in a dream? Alex had never felt pain in her dreams before.

Alex looked at the clock. She had ten more minutes to get ready. She started to put on her makeup, concentrating on making it perfect. She was going to slip into her outfit last, wanting it to be perfect when Gene arrived.

Just as she was applying her mascara, her phone rang, and Alex walked to retrieve it. Was it Gene, calling to cancel? She hoped not as she walked closer, her stomach in ropes.

"Hello?"

"Alex," came a voice she didn't recognise. "Turn on the telly. Look what's going on."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused. "Who is this?"

"An informant," the voice said. "Just look Alex." Absolutely bewildered, Alex sighed, and grabbed her remote, pressing the power button.

"There's nothing on," she said, annoyed at the person who had wasted her valuable time. Gene would be here any minute, and she needed to finish getting ready.

"Oh, there will be. Just wait for the news, Alex." The person rang off, and Alex stared at the phone in confusion. What the hell was he talking about?

Alex heard a beeping noise. She looked around, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It almost sounded like a heart monitor. Was she going back? No, she couldn't go back, not yet! She wanted to go on a date with Gene first! The beeping grew faster, and Alex realised it wasn't a heart monitor. It was coming from by her telly. Suddenly, Alex had a flashback to watching Doctor Who with Molly. Martha's telly had beeped, and then... Alex stared at the TV. Could it really be a...?

~(*)~

Gene walked out of CID long after CID had left for the day. He checked his watch. Only ten minutes until he was supposed to pick up Alex. Gene smiled and started toward Luigi's. His mum had always taught him to be early, even if the woman took another half hour to finish getting ready.

Gene wondered what Alex would be wearing. She could wear a tablecloth and pull it off, he thought to himself. Gene knew she'd never wear a tablecloth, but some of the things she had worn to work before did make him question her sanity. He smiled in anticipation. He really couldn't wait to see what she was wearing.

Gene decided to stop for a fag quickly before he went to pick her up. He still had five minutes. Early or on time was okay, his mother had said. Late was bad.

Gene lit his cigarette and slowly felt the nicotine relax him. He looked up at her window. She'd be in there getting ready. He smiled softly to himself. Maybe it would work out tonight.

Gene stepped on his fag, and took one last look up at her flat. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light from inside her flat. It extended outward and the glass from her windows flew in his direction. It was then that Gene heard the roar of noise and the blast of heat.

"ALEX!" He wasn't even aware that he had screamed. Three thoughts looped in his mind repeatedly. One: That was Alex's flat. Two: It had just exploded. Three: Alex was in there.

One: That was Alex's flat.

Two: It had just exploded.

Three: Alex was in there.

One: That was Alex's flat.

Two: It had just exploded.

Three: Alex was in there.

The tune changed as screaming sounded across the street.

Alex had to be okay. She couldn't die on him. She had to survive.

Alex had to be okay. She couldn't die on him. She had to survive.

The flames roared inside her flat, and Gene stared on.

One: Alex's flat had exploded.

Two: Alex was in there.

Three: Alex would be okay, wouldn't she?

~(*)~

The television exploded in a blast of heat and metal, throwing her from where she was standing up against the wall. Alex swore she heard a few bones crack before her head hit the wall as well. She fell down the wall, onto the couch, facedown as unconsciousness started to approach.

Alex lay in a haze of smoke and fire as blood trickled slowly from where she had hit her head against the wall. As her consciousness ebbed away, she replayed the scene in her head. Fire. Smoke. Fear. Explosion. Huge explosion. Smoke, dust, tears. Her tears. A scream. Her scream as she flew across the flat. Molly.

Alex stared blankly as Molly knelt over her, birthday cake in hand.

"We'll blow the candles out together Mummy."

The world fell to black.

* * *

A/N: You'll notice that my chapters are all going to be X Days before, or X days after. If it is an Alex/ Gene mixed POV chap, like this one, it will be her before or after, which is different than Gene's before or After. (And if I've completely confused you now, it'll make sense more when I continue the story.)

* * *

**tbc!**


	3. Chapter 2: 67 Days Before

**Thanks to all of you who read and reviewed, and to Rolephant, who thinks the stories I create for her instead of writing are amusing :P Oh, btw. Who enjoyed Friday's Ashes? Also another statement that this is going AU from Series three, although i may include little elements. **

**Chapter 2: 67 Days Before**

_One: Alex's flat had exploded._

_Two: Alex was in there._

_Three: Alex would be okay, wouldn't she?_

Sirens. Screams. Children screaming. A blinding haze forming around him. People running from the wine bar below. People yelling at him, wondering what was going on. The cacophony of noise fell on Gene's deaf ears as he stared up at Alex's burning flat.

_Bolly. _

It was the only word on his mind.

_Bolly._

Each beat of his heart, her nickname sounded.

_Bolly._

His earlier mantra had fallen silent as he stared in horror at the flames around him.

_Bolly. _

He could only think her name as the fear grew in his belly.

_Bolly._

She was in there, being burnt, being hurt, and he wasn't there to save her.

_Bolly._

He had to find her, no matter if she was alive or dead.

_Bolly._

_Bolly. _

_Bolly._

_Bolly._

_~(*)~_

_Flame. Fire. Heat. Smoke. It was too hot. She couldn't move. She couldn't see. She could only feel, feel the searing on her skin. She could only smell, smell the smoke in the air. She could only hear, hear the crackle of the flames. She could only taste, taste the ash and soot in her mouth. But she could not move to get out, she could not see._

_She couldn't feel anymore, the searing on her body was gone. She could only smell, smell the scent that was distinctively Gene. She could only hear, hear him swear. She could only taste, taste blood running into her mouth. But she couldn't move to respond to him. She couldn't see him. She couldn't feel the searing on her skin._

_She couldn't smell the whiskey and cigarettes. She could only hear, hear as he panted and struggled. She could only taste, taste clean air. But she couldn't move to respond to him. She couldn't see him. She couldn't feel the searing on her skin. She couldn't smell the whiskey and cigarettes. _

_She couldn't hear his voice anymore. She could only taste, taste the sweat that had dripped from his face into her mouth. But she couldn't move to respond to him. She couldn't see him. She couldn't feel the searing on her skin. She couldn't smell the whiskey and the cigarettes. She couldn't hear his voice._

_She couldn't taste anymore. She had descended into nothingness._

_~(*)~_

Gene started running, ignoring everyone pushing past him, telling him to go a different way. He knew who the bomb was meant for, and he knew she had to be alive. Still a gnawing fear clenched at his insides. If Bolly was dead...

No. She couldn't be. She was a fighter. Bolly fought everything. Bolly would fight Maggie Thatcher herself if her conviction to a cause was strong enough.

Gene hardly noticed as the smoke began to get thicker as he approached the floor her flat was on. He continued running, unknowing of the wheezing cough that was coming from his lungs. Gene continued up the stairs, and finally, finally reached the floor where her flat was.

It was a complete disaster. He stared in amazement. The floor above his had also been blown to pieces, various bits of ceiling and personal items strewn all around the hall. Could she have survived this?

Ignoring this thought, he trekked forward, closing in on Alex's flat. He shoved the door open, and a blast of even hotter air rushed forward to meet him. The crackle of the angry flame could be heard as it hungrily ate away at her precious possessions.

"Bolly!" he called. "Bolly! Where are you?!" The smoke was black. He couldn't see through it, and he heard no answer. Gene knew that if she wasn't answering, she had to be unconscious, or worse.

A burning bit of ceiling fell in front of him, and he jumped back, but then continued on. He had to find her and save her, damn all the consequences. Gene went to her loo first, figuring that would be where she was when it exploded. He cursed as he found it empty. He checked the bedroom. She wasn't in there either. Was it possible that she had gone down to Luigi's to wait for him? Gene moved through her tiny kitchen into the sitting room and gasped. One whole side of the flat had been blown open, completely exposing itself to the air outside. Flames raged through the room. The heat was tremendous, and he knew immediately that this was the room that the bomb had gone off in.

A shower of embers fell over his head, and Gene swore as they burnt his scalp, brushing them off quickly.

He looked around the room. The earpiece of her phone was melted to the floor, and the table that had housed it was now blown over, flickering in the blue flames. He looked over to where flames were starting to lick up the base of the sofa.

"Bolly!" His voice was hoarse from all the smoke he had inhaled. He ran toward the sofa, and gasped, causing himself to cough violently. Alex's face was pointed toward the television, blood running from various cuts around her face caused by flying shards of glass. Her left arm looked broken; it was sticking out at an awkward ankle. A small smile crossed Gene's mind in a nanosecond as he realised she was still in her dressing gown.

_Typical woman, always bloody late,_ he thought.

He reached down and lifted her, as it was clear that she had been knocked into unconsciousness. He was relieved to see that she was still breathing. Gene was in the kitchen before he noticed the searing heat against his side.

"SHIT!" he swore. Her dressing gown was on fire, and by lifting her, the flames had attacked his suit. He laid her on the table in panic, trying to find something to put both her dressing gown and his suit out. A small glass sat on the countertop, full of some kind of clear liquid. Gene grabbed it, hoping that it was water, but knowing full well that since he was in Alex Drake's flat, it was more likely to be vodka. He poured it on his side, breathing a sigh of relief when the flame had gone out. He turned his attention to Alex once more, whose right side was engulfed in flames. Thinking fast, he ran into her bedroom, and threw the duvet on the floor, tearing off the sheet beneath. He ran back into the kitchen, and threw the sheet over her, pushing his hand along the fabric. The flames quenched, leaving a gaping hole in her dressing gown. Not thinking twice, Gene picked her up once more, keeping her covered in the sheet.

The lack of oxygen was really starting to get to him now, and he stumbled down the corridor, coughing and breathing heavily. He was stumbling slightly, and knew that he had to control himself, or risk throwing Alex down the stairs, worsening her condition. Gene steadied himself, and started down the stairs. He could breathe in more and more oxygen as he went down, but was coughing even more violently than he had when he was in her flat. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and moved out in front of the restaurant, where he was immediately apprehended by ambulance crews.

"Sir," one medic said, tugging on his arm. "We need you to let her go if we can treat her." Gene stared at the man for a moment, before nodding his head. "Do you want to carry her to the stretcher?" the man asked. Gene nodded again, and the man led him to a waiting stretcher.

"You rescued her?" Gene merely nodded again. He was having trouble catching his breath. The medic pointed to a stretcher, and Gene laid Alex carefully on it. The medic removed the sheet before calling to a few others. Two other men came over quickly, and the first started instructing them.

"She's got major burns," the medic said. "There's third degree on her right arm and leg, and second degree on the right side of her thorax. Lacerations cover her face probably from exploding glass, and a broken arm. We need to get her to the hospital right away. Get an oxygen mask on her. I cringe to think of how much smoke she inhaled. Wet the burn down a little bit. We don't want this hitting the muscle or bone. There'd be no hope then." The two nodded and started working on her, moving her to the ambulance to continue. Gene started to follow, but was stopped by the first medic.

"Hang on you. What's that?" the medic asked, pointing to the hole in his suit where the flames had licked through. Gene looked at what had once been his good suit, and was now in complete ruins. The ends of the sleeves were burnt and singed, and there were small holes all over where little embers had eaten their way through.

"Her dressing gown was on fire," he wheezed, before another violent coughing fit set in. He had only just recovered when a mask was placed over his face. Gene tried to remove it, but the medic slapped his hands away.

"No you don't. I'm sorry, but if you went in and rescued her you've inhaled loads of smoke. You're writing your answers out to me now." The medic produced a pencil and a pad of paper from what seemed like nowhere, and handed them to Gene.

"What's your name?" Gene glared at him, but the medic shrugged and repeated the question.

Gene rolled his eyes, and wrote on the pad.

"Okay Gene, what was your partner's name?"

_Alex Drake._

"Where was Alex in the building?"

Gene coughed again, and then wrote.

_The flat where the bomb was._

The medic swore under his breath. "You aren't as banged up as her," he said, removing Gene's jacket, as Chris and Ray approached.

_I wasn't in the flat,_ Gene wrote.

"Take off your shirt and vest," the medic ordered. Gene complied as the medic asked another question. "Were you in the building at all when the bomb went off?"

Gene was struggling to get his vest off, and in a flash of annoyance, the medic pulled out a pair of scissors. "Sorry, Gene, but I have to check this burn out." The medic cut his vest, and Gene picked up the tablet.

_No. I was out here._

"Guv," Chris called. "Guv! What happened to you?"

Gene lifted his mask out of reflex, before the medic slapped his hand and put the mask in place. With a glare to medic, Gene grabbed the notepad and wrote down what had happened.

_It was Bolly's flat. She was up there. I had to rescue her._

Ray looked at Gene. "The bomb went off, and Luigi's went mad. We saw you run in; we knew you had to have a reason to run in there. We tried to help with the chaos. Gene nodded, and hissed as something pressed onto his side.

"Sorry, Gene," the medic said. Gene looked around, realising that Alex wasn't there.

_Bolly,_ he wrote. _Where's Bolly?_

"Bolly?" the medic questioned.

Gene shook his head, and wrote Alex's name down.

"She's on her way to the hospital, Gene," the medic said. "As you shall be in just a moment." Gene nodded to Chris and Ray, and they left, going to stem the panic that Luigi's had erupted into.

_Will she be okay?_

Gene noted the flash of hopelessness in the medic's eyes before he responded. "I really don't know Gene. Considering the extent of her injuries, even if she does recover, it'll be a long, slow, and painful recovery. C'mon now. Into the ambulance."

Gene was pressed into an ambulance as the medics started talking in whispers to another. "A few second degrees on the hands and forearms, and a small third degree on the hip. He definitely has dyspnoea and possibly hypoxia."

Gene had no idea what the medic was talking about, but he hated it when they used medical terminology around him.

"If he asks about an Alex Drake, she was already taken to the hospital. Major burns, about thirteen or fourteen percent just third degree. Upper right arm and upper right leg. Second degree on the right side of the thorax. She definitely had hypoxia, a concussion, dyspnoea, and a broken arm. They're going to have to work to get all of the glass out of her face as well. She's gonna have some scars, that's for sure."

"Jesus," said the second just as quietly as the first, both unaware that Gene could hear them. "She gonna make it?"

"No chance."

Gene's stomach sunk. The second medic turned around and smiled at him. Gene just glared back.

"Gene, you've been through a bit of a shock. We're going to sedate you to help your body recover for a little while, okay?"

Gene could have slapped the man. The medic was talking to him as though he was three. Gene shook his head no, but the medic laughed. "Relax, Gene," he said, prepping a needle.

Gene tried to move away from the medic, but he was too slow, and the medic grabbed his arm and plunged a needle to it. He felt the tenseness leave his body almost immediately.

"Don't worry Gene," said the medic calmly. "Everything is going to be fine. You'll be fine. Your bird'll be alright." A note of falseness was in the medic's voice during the last sentence. Gene just glared at the medic as the sedatives took hold on his system. His mantra from earlier ran through his mind once more.

Alex had to be okay. She couldn't die on him. She had to survive.

Alex had to be okay. She couldn't die on him. She had to survive.

Alex _would _be okay. She _wouldn't_ die on him. She _would_ survive.

And if it turned out any different, then... Gene shook his head. That wasn't going to happen.

Alex had to be okay.

She couldn't die on him.

She had to survive.

She had to fight.

She couldn't die, could she?

* * *

A/N For those who get equally as frustrated when people use medical terms you don't understand :P dyspnoea is having difficulty breathing, and hypoxia is when your bloodstream doesn't have enough oxygen in it. Burns are classified into three categories, 1st 2nd and 3rd degree. A severe burn is classified as a third degree on more than 10% of the body, or a second degree on 25% or more. This is determined by the rule of nines, which I will let you google. :P Any burns over about 50% are extremely life threatening (so the bloke in ep 1 is an absolute bloody miracle...)

* * *

**TBC!**


	4. Chapter 3:1837 Days Before

**Longest chap I've ever written! I hope you enjoy. Thanks to Rolephant for being awesome. And thanks to everyone who reads and reviews!**

**Chapter 3: 1837 Days Before**

_The television exploded in a blast of heat and metal, throwing her from where she was standing up against the wall. Alex swore she heard a few bones crack before her head hit the wall as well. She fell down the wall, onto the couch, facedown as unconsciousness started to approach. _

_Alex lay in a haze of smoke and fire as blood trickled slowly from where she had hit her head against the wall. As her consciousness ebbed away, she replayed the scene in her head. __Fire. Smoke. Fear. Explosion. Huge explosion. Smoke, dust, tears. Her tears. A scream. Her scream as she flew across the flat. Molly. _

_Alex stared blankly as Molly knelt over her, birthday cake in hand._

"_We'll blow the candles out together Mummy."_

_~(*)~_

Alex woke with a start, sitting straight up in her bed.

"It's about time!" Molly said, an expression of frustration on her face. "C'mon mum. I'm gonna be late for school."

Alex stared at her daughter. "Molly?" she breathed.

Molly looked at her as if she had gone mental. "Yes, Mum."

"C'mere Molls."

Molly tentatively approached Alex, who immediately wrapped her in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Mum...Mum! I know it's my birthday, but you've never really gotten this emotional before."

Alex pulled her daughter away from her. "Your birthday?"

"Yeah..." said Molly slowly. "My twelfth? Remember?"

Alex stood quickly, and stared at the calendar on her wall. "July, 2008?"

"Mum, what's wrong with you? You've gone bonkers!" Molly was staring at Alex, completely confused.

"Just answer me this. Have you been taken hostage by a greasy snakelike man outside the Tate Modern?"

Molly's mouth dropped open. "Erm...Mum...I think maybe you need to go back to bed. Just relax, I'll ring Evan and get you some tea. I'll call into work for you too."

"No...Molls," Alex said. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. In fact..." She laughed giddily. "I'm the best I've been in a long while! Shards of metal aren't drilling their way through my skull! It feels fantastic, Molls!"

Molly was standing by the door, frozen in shock and disbelief. "Erm...Mum?"

Alex looked at her daughter and laughed. "You're not going to school today, Molly. And I'm not going to work. We're spending the day together. You're not going to be my little girl much longer, and I haven't spent your entire birthday with you in years. We're going shopping, and we'll get you a cake. We'll blow the candles out together, Molly. I promise."

"Mum...are you okay? What changed your mind?" Molly questioned cautiously.

"What do you mean, Molly?" Alex asked.

"I mean, last night, you were adamant that I would go to school today. What changed your mind?"

Alex sighed and looked at her daughter. "It feels like I've been away from you for a lifetime Molls."

"But Mum, it's been eight hours...tops." Molly still had an expression of immense confusion on her face and Alex suddenly realised how she must seem. To Molly, it had not been nearly three years since she had seen her mother. It had been eight hours, and she had probably gone to bed angry the night before as well. Alex thought of how often they had little fights over nothing.

"I'll explain everything later sweetie," Alex responded. "I'm going to ring your school, work and Evan, and then after I cook you breakfast, I'll tell you everything."

Molly did a double take. "Breakfast?"

"Do you want a fry up?"

"Mum, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm _fine _Molls. Go change out of your uniform. I'll get ready and then get breakfast started."

Molly nodded, apparently deciding the best thing was just to keep mute and let her Mum be as mad as she pleased. It was certainly working out for the better for her. As Molly walked out of the room, Alex attacked her wardrobe. She pulled out white button up after white button up, and all her trousers seemed to be of a navy blue or black shade. She rummaged around a bit, and found what she had been looking for.

It was a pair of blue jeans, which she knew she hadn't worn in years. Once she had been made a DI, she had become completely devoted to the job, often working every single day of the week. She rummaged a bit more and found a t-shirt, which looked a bit like one she had had in 1983.

1983...

Enthralled as she was, Alex felt a pang of sadness as she remembered 1983. She had left Gene, just as they were about to go on a date. Alex tried to push it to the back of her mind, to remind herself that it all appeared to be a dream. The problem was that it had seemed so _real._ How could only eight hours have changed her life that much?

She knew one thing, however. If she hadn't really been shot in the head, then she was going to put right everything she had thought about during her dream. She was going to put things right to Molly, to make sure Molly knew she loved her. Alex knew she had not told Molly that she loved her enough before the wild dream she had. She was going to make sure she told her every single day now.

Alex carried on making her resolves while she was in the shower, and as she did her hair. It was amazing how long her hair was now. In 1983 it had been so short. Now it was past her shoulders, and it was hard to deal with. Alex knew that she was going to get it cut as soon as possible. Maybe then she could do something with it.

Alex walked into her room, and grabbed her mobile. It felt odd to hold the technology in her hands, and she started longing for the giant phone in her flat. The flat that didn't exist. She recalled everything in perfect detail, the television with a giant remote, the peach bedroom, her red wall, the wood floor with a furry rug. How could she have dreamt up that much detail?

She dialled her work number, and listened in amazement as a voice told her that the number was disconnected. Then she realised, that was the number for Fenchurch East in 1983. That wasn't the number for Scotland Yard. She looked through her phone, and finally found a number labelled "work." Alex rang it, and was struck with shock as she realised that Viv wasn't answering the phone.

"_He doesn't work at the Yard," _Alex thought to herself. _"Besides, its twenty five years later."_

Alex racked her brain for the name of her DCI. It was odd, the fact that the dream had wiped her memory like it did. According to Molly, it had only been eight hours since she had been in 2008. Shouldn't she remember this pretty well?

Alex finally remembered the name of her DCI, and told the station she wouldn't be in. She then rang Molly's school, and informed them that she'd not be in. Alex went stood in front of the mirror, and started rummaging through her makeup bag. She didn't really have much makeup, did she? Some mascara and eyeliner, and that was it. Alex applied them, and stared at herself in the mirror. She felt rather plain. Alex had never gone anywhere without her hair done, or without her eyelids a bright blue. Maybe she'd have to get some makeup as well. She sighed, and left her room, going downstairs where Molly was waiting.

"_Mum..." _Molly said in disbelief.

"What?" Alex asked, disconcerted.

"You've done your _makeup._ You _never_ do your makeup! And look at you! You're wearing jeans and a _t-shirt! _What's going on?!"

"You know Molls, I'm not really sure. I promised you breakfast. What do you want? Bacon? Eggs? Toast? Sausage?"

"Don't like bacon, Mum," Molly replied quietly. "We don't even have it in the house. Or sausage."

"Well, okay then," Alex said. "We'll just go out. You choose where we go."

Molly stared at her mum. "_Mum, what is going on?!"_ she asked loudly.

They clambered into the car and Alex looked at Molly. "You know my book, Molls?"

"The one about all the nutters you study?"

Alex looked at her daughter quickly in shock. Molly had phrased that exactly like Gene would. She knew she couldn't yell at her daughter for saying that though.

"Yes, the one for my colleagues that have undergone trauma. Well, there was this one man, named Sam Tyler."

"Oh, the nut job who thought he went back in time?" Alex tried to stop herself from laughing. She knew she should be angry, but it was so like Gene Hunt that she couldn't stop herself from being amused.

"Molls, please remember that he was in a coma for over three months and had a brain tumour. Wait a second, how do you know this anyway?"

"Erm..." Molly shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Private means don't look at Molly."

Molly smiled, apparently relieved that was the worst she was going to get.

"Okay, well since you know the case already," Alex said with a sternness that Molly seemed to know was fake, "I'll just elaborate a little. Sam thought he had gone back to 1973 with Gene Hunt, with Ray Carling, with Chris Skelton. When he woke up here, he thought he had left them for dead. He grew depressed and eventually jumped off the station up in Manchester."

"I know Mum. It was in your notes."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to hear about this or not? Anyway...last night...I guess... I had a...dream. It started out in 2008, with you and me on the way to your school. I got a call on the radio. I had to respond to a man who was holding a girl hostage. I told you to stay in the car, while I negotiated, but you didn't listen, and approached the man. He took you hostage, but for some reason let you go. You went home with Evan, and I went to work. Or well, I was going to. But the man who I had been negotiating with was in my car, and took me hostage. He took me onto his barge, and shot me."

Alex stole a glance over at Molly. She was listening attentively with an expression of disbelief and confusion on her face.

"The next thing I knew, I was waking up on a boat in 1981. And I met Gene Hunt and Ray Carling, and Chris Skelton. And I spent three years there, Molly. The entire time I forgot things about the future, but I never forgot you."

"But isn't that all it is, Mum? Just a dream?"

"But the thing is, Molls, it seemed so _real._ I could hear the wind in the trees, felt real pain, real emotions. I've never had a dream that vivid. And this morning, when I tried to call the station, I called Fenchurch East, not the Yard. It's odd for me to use a mobile, and I found myself staring at a DVD revelling in the technology this morning."

"Mum, I think you just got into the case too much. Let me guess, you read it right before you went to bed?"

Alex thought back, but to her mind, it was nearly three years ago that 19 July, 2008 had happened. "I think so," she said.

"See, that answers it. You just got too involved, and your mind dreamt about it. God Mum. Who's supposed to be the psychologist here?"

Alex laughed. "You're right. It was all just a dream. A very, very vivid dream. C'mon Molls, lets eat."

~(*)~

"Mum..." Molly's voice called out to Alex from the makeup counter at Boots.

"Yeah?" Alex asked distractedly, holding the shade of electric blue she didn't think would exist anymore.

"You can't wear that colour. You'll look like a clown. You'll scare all your work mates if you go from wearing no makeup to wearing that. What is with you wearing makeup anyway?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably from her daughter's questions.

"Is this because of that bloody dream again?"

"Molly!" Alex reprimanded sharply. Molly had put up protests as Alex bought new clothes for them, constantly asking what had gotten into her, and saying that she didn't need anything Alex was buying. "Listen, Molly," Alex continued softly. "I'm doing this for me. And you're always begging me to buy you things on other days."

"But it's because of a _dream_!" Molly protested.

"I know," Alex replied. "But that dream made me realise what I was missing Molls. I want to change it a little bit, okay? Just because I'm changing the way I look a little bit, it doesn't mean I'm not still going to be a mother for you, or that you're not first in my life, okay?"

Molly nodded. Alex looked at her watch.

"Where do you want to go for lunch, Molls?"

"Erm... Can we try this new place?"

"Sure, it's your birthday," Alex said cheerfully.

"Right, well Jennifer told me about it, it's this place called Alexander's."

"Whatever you want," said Alex as they clambered into the car. "Where is it?"

"Christopher Street." It was a good thing that Alex was not driving yet, or they would have been thrown forward. Alex forced herself to remain calm, and drove to Christopher Street. As she turned off of Clifton Street and stared in amazement at what had been her station.

"It's a train station," Alex whispered.

"No, Mum," Molly said. "It's down there, see right down the street."

Alex looked down the street, where Luigi's had once stood. Now, it was replaced by a fish bar. The building looked different as well.

"_Dreams do sometimes change what you've seen before," _Alex thought to herself. She parked, and she and Molly walked into the fish bar.

A man looked up and smiled. "What'll it be loves?" Molly ordered as Alex stared on in amazement. She hardly realised that the man was trying to get her attention.

"MUM!"

"Mm?"

"What do you want?"

Alex tried to stop herself, but she couldn't control her tongue as a question was blurted through her lips.

"Didn't this used to be an Italian restaurant?" she asked.

Molly looked uncomfortable, but the man just looked at her oddly. "'Ow long 'as it been since you've been down 'ere, love?"

"Erm...about twenty-five years," Alex answered honestly.

"Well, timing's right then," the man said. "Place got blown up in 1983. Some woman that lived upstairs, bomb was in 'er flat. She got blown right to kingdom come, she did."

"She died?" Alex questioned.

"Yeah. Not surprising is it though? She was in the room it went off in. Anyway, after this place got renovated a bit, the Italian that owned it sold the place. We took over in 1985, same year as when that police station got broken up. Been 'ere ever since."

"Do you know why the station got broken up?"

"No ma'am, but I really do need to take your order, there's someone behind you waiting."

Alex turned to apologise to the person for taking so long, but she stopped dead, her heart racing. Looking thirty years older, and immensely sadder, stood Gene Hunt. He was looking at her with an angry frown on his face.

"Best to leave that topic alone, love," he said forcefully, but not angrily. As she turned she swore she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a deep sadness.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Suddenly, unable to stop herself, she blurted once again. "You remind me of a policeman I met before."

He stared at her, and slowly a small grin crossed his face, but it was tired, sad. "It'd make sense. I was one."

"Gene..." she whispered, restraining herself from cupping his face with her hand.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Bye little lady," Alex whispered thinking quickly. "Any problems, you just call the Gene Genie..."

"Sounds like something I'd say," he said quietly. "Can't say I remember you though."

"My parents were the Price's."

"Little Alex Price?" he said, extending his hand. "Been a long time."

"Seems like only yesterday," she replied.

"All grown up," Gene said. "What do you do then? Lawyer, like your parents?"

"No," Alex laughed. "I'm a copper. Police psychologist, actually. DI Alex Drake. And this is my daughter Molly."

Gene stiffened, his eyes changing from sad to hard. "Alex Drake...police psychologist...Molly."

"Gene?"

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" he yelled. "I don't like it one bit! Don't expect my business here anymore," he spat at the man, before leaving the restaurant in a mix of rage and fury.

Alex looked at the man behind the counter.

"I don't have a clue, love," he said.

"_I do," _Alex thought resignedly. _"I died." _She ran out of the restaurant quickly, leaving Molly behind.

"Gene!" she called. "Please wait!" She caught up with him, and grabbed his wrist. He pulled away, but she ran in front of him. "Please, Gene."

"No," he growled, his eyes full of fury. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're not _her._ You look like her, you sound a bit like her, but _you're not her._ Just stay the hell away from me."

With that, Gene pushed her aside and pounded down the street, leaving Alex with tears in her eyes.

Alex stood in disbelief behind him, just staring as he left. People were looking at her, but she didn't move, didn't notice them at all.

"Mum." Molly's voice was calling to her. "Mum...let's just...let's go home."

~(*)~

It had been several hours since the ruined lunch on Christopher Street, and now Alex and Molly were at home with Evan. He had given Alex an odd look as he walked in, but quickly focussed his attention on Molly, to whom he presented a 'seriously chocolaty cake.' Just the idea of it sent Alex into her memories, to the day that hadn't existed. She remembered as he promised Molly a seriously chocolaty cake, as she walked away from her daughter and her godfather for more than three years, that didn't seem to exist.

Molly was delighted when he gave her a package, decorated with ribbon and wrapping paper. Alex smiled knowingly at Evan, although she remembered he hadn't told her what he had gotten Molly.

"A Blackberry! Thanks Evan!"

"_Oh yeah? I'll get you some more while you're at school and you can make a birthday crumble."_

The conversation would never happen. Arthur Layton wouldn't shoot her. At least not today.

They put the candles onto Molly's cake, and they lit them. Molly looked at her Mum. "Erm...Mum...do you mind if I blow them out by myself this year?"

Alex stared at her. She had been fighting to blow the candles out with Molly. She had tried over and over to get home to fulfil her promise to her daughter. And now her daughter didn't want her to blow out the candles. Alex swallowed the lump in her throat, and nodded.

"It's fine Molls, go on."

Molly smiled, and closed her eyes. One by one, they all extinguished, and the room was left in darkness.

Soon after Molly went to bed and Alex and Evan sat on the couch watching the telly.

"She hurt you tonight," Evan said.

Alex looked up at him. "Since when did you become a psychologist?"

Evan grinned. "I may not be a psychologist, but I can read you like a book Alex. Which is how I know she hurt you."

Alex sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She longed for a glass of wine, but Molly informed her earlier that there was none of that in the house.

"_You say it's disgusting, Mum," Molly had told her._

"She's just growing up," Alex said to Evan. "Doesn't need Mum anymore."

"She'll always need you Lex. Just like from time to time you need me."

Alex smiled. "I suppose you're right."

"Now, do you want to tell me what happened to you today?"

Alex sat straight up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I walked in and your hair was cut and styled, you're wearing eye shadow for the first time since you got married, and Molly said something odd happened over on Christopher Street."

"I just wanted to do something with myself," Alex said, telling half the truth. "I got tired of looking so plain."

"You will never be plain Alex."

Alex laughed, slightly uncomfortable as she remembered Evan's creepy hand dance when he tried to woo her in 1981. "You have to say that. You're my godfather."

"Doesn't make it any less true. Now what happened over on Christopher Street at the chippy?"

"When we went over there, it seemed...familiar. I thought I had seen an Italian restaurant where the chippy was today. So I asked, and the man said there was. So I asked what had happened to it, and the man told me it had been blown up in 1983."

A flash of an emotion Alex didn't recognise crossed Evan's face. Pity? Sorrow? Anger?

"He told me that the police station that used to be there had been closed down. I asked why, and a man behind me told me I shouldn't talk about it. I turned around, and the man looked familiar."

"Do you know who it was?"

"Gene Hunt."

Evan exhaled slowly. "There's a name I haven't heard in years."

"I told him that I was the Price's daughter, and he asked me what I did for a living. I told him that I was a police psychologist, that my name was Alex Drake, and I introduced Molly. He went mad and asked if it was all a sick joke. He stormed out, and I ran up trying to figure out what had happened, but he told me I wasn't _her._"

Alex saw no problems in lacing little white lies through her story. Evan looked at her thoughtfully.

"I know why," he said.

"You do?" she asked, carefully monitoring herself to make sure that she looked incredibly interested.

"Yeah. DCI Hunt had a partner with him, that day, a woman. Do you remember her?"

Alex pretended to think. "Erm...she was tall and brunette right? A perm?"

Evan nodded. "That was DI Alex Drake. She was a bit of an oddity, slightly mad, but a lovely woman. She and Hunt seemed to have a bit of a thing going, but never really got it together. Then one day in 1983, her flat blew up with her inside. He sat by her side for over two months, but in the end, she had gotten an infection from the burns, and it killed her. Hunt retired after that, and disappeared. The station went downhill after that, and was eventually dismantled and everyone sent to different stations or pensioned off."

"So he got mad that I shared her name?" asked Alex, reeling in the idea of what had happened to her.

"Well that was part of it, and I suppose you do look a bit like her. He probably didn't want to face it at all. It's nothing to do with you."

"_It's everything to do with me," _Alex thought miserably.

"Don't let it bother you, Lexi. Mr. Hunt was an odd man in the first place. The years have probably just made it worse."

Alex nodded. "I'm going to go then," Evan announced, standing suddenly. "Night, Alex."

"Night, Evan."

Alex went up to bed. As she lay in between the covers she found herself praying that she'd wake up in 1983 once more. But she knew that wouldn't happen. She was dead there, and if her thoughts were right, it wasn't really her in 1983 anyway. It was some woman's life she had assimilated, dreaming that she was them for a few years, always being led back to the most important thing in her life. Molly. Molly was the most important thing, and Gene couldn't change that.

Could he?

**TBC.**


	5. Chapter 4: 66 Days Before

**So the updates on this will occur when I can write the next chapter... Just to let you know that the fic may become more sporadic. :) Anyway, Enjoy.**

**Chapter 4: 66 Days Before**

Gene woke slowly from the sedatives, hoping that everything he had seen was just a dream. That Bolly hadn't really agreed to go on a date with him. That she hadn't been blown up. That it was all just a nightmare.

Gene opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed. It was dark in the room, it seemed like it was long past sunset. There was a faint light from around the curtains, but Gene knew it had to be the middle of the night. He sighed heavily. All real then, he thought with a sinking stomach. It had all happened. The delight of Alex saying yes, the fear that had coursed through his veins when her flat had exploded. The adrenaline that had followed as he ran up the steps and rescued her. The unresponsiveness. The medical terms they applied to her. _Concussion. Dyspnoea. Hypoxia. _It was all real.

Gene sat up and pulled the oxygen mask off his face. He had to find her. He had to see how she was doing. Gene had swung his legs over the edge of the bed when he realised he had no shirt. They had put one of those ridiculous gowns on his torso, but at least the bastards had left his trousers alone. He couldn't go wandering the hospital in the gown.

Gene sat on the edge of his bed in a moment of indecision before making up his mind that he had to find her no matter what. He cursed as his bare feet hit the tiles. They had taken off his socks and shoes then. Gene grabbed them and started putting them on, but was stopped by the sound of a male voice.

"Doing a runner then?" The voice was laced with amusement. Gene looked up to see a doctor standing at the foot of his bed. Gene didn't respond, concentrating on putting on his sock without causing too much pain to his hip.

"You know, you probably don't want to wear that gown around London. People might think you're a bit off." Gene glared at the doctor. He was a man in his mid forties with black hair and bright blue eyes. The man was slightly muscular, and Gene took an immediate distaste to him.

"I'm not going out into London," Gene growled. "I'm ringing my ruddy sergeant to bring me a bloody shirt."

"You're a DI?"

"DCI," Gene corrected angrily. He really didn't like this man.

"So why not ring your DI?" Gene could have throttled the man. Why with all the personal questions. Gene hoped that if he answered them, maybe the doctor would leave him alone.

"My DI was admitted."

"DI Drake?"

Gene almost leapt up and grabbed the man by the lapels. "What do you know?" he demanded angrily.

This was where the doctor should smile at him, tell him that everything would be fine and Bolly was being as annoying as usual. However, the doctor's amused face turned serious and Gene's stomach sunk even more.

"We're not supposed to share this information with anyone but next-of..."

"She doesn't have any bloody relatives," Gene responded. "I'm as good as next-of-kin."

The doctor nodded. "DI Drake was admitted with a severe concussion, a broken arm, severe burns to her right side, and some severe cuts to her face. She wasn't getting enough oxygen, because she was having difficulty breathing. They removed the glass from her face and set her arm, and she's on oxygen as we speak. As you should be."

The doctor moved to put the mask on Gene's face, but he resisted.

"Mr. Hunt, you have inhaled massive amounts of smoke," he said seriously. "You need to wear the mask to clear out your lungs a little bit."

"I inhale massive amounts of smoke every day," Gene snapped. "You don't see me on oxygen for that, do you?"

"Mt. Hunt, I understand your concern..."

"Good. Then take me to Bolly. I want to see her."

The doctor looked him squarely in the eye, considering.

"Fine," the doctor said. "On one condition. Two actually."

"What?"

"You're on oxygen as you go down there. And you're going in a wheelchair."

Gene glared at the doctor, but relented. If it could let him see Bolly, he'd do it. He just needed to see her face. Gene slowly nodded. The doctor smiled, and exited, only to have a nurse come in a few moments later. She connected him up to a tank of oxygen, but instead of hooking up a mask, she put a tube in his nose. It was uncomfortable, and Gene tried to remove it, but she gently held his hand away.

"It's a cannula or the mask. I figure you'll want to speak to her. Can't do that through a mask. Be smart, Mr. Hunt. The doctor's orders are for you to be on oxygen, but he didn't specify which type, assuming we'd know the mask. If you fight with me, he'll just come in and you'll definitely get the mask."

Gene grinned at the nurse, a woman of about sixty. She had grey hair and steely grey eyes, giving her a powerful presence, and made him feel like she was in charge. He hadn't felt that way with any bird except his mother.

"You're a cheeky mare," he grinned.

"No, I just know my way through loopholes. C'mon Mr. Hunt. Let's take you to Alex." She started walking along the corridor, and Gene noted that it was dark outside.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Just gone three. You had some people in earlier. They were extremely concerned, but we pushed them out around one. Course, we had to reassure them about one hundred times that you were fine, you were just sleeping off sedative. Had to do the same with them and Ms. Drake. She's had no sedatives though."

"How bad is she Nurse...?"

"My name's Florence. Not Nightingale, though we were born round the same time," she joked. Gene didn't laugh.

"How bad is she Florence?"

"I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you..."

"Just tell me." Gene didn't yell, he didn't even speak firmly. But the tone in which he said it left her no room for argument.

"She's in a coma, Mr. Hunt. She very nearly shattered her skull on impact. She's lucky she only got away with what she did though. If she was in the flat where the bomb went off, she could have been killed."

"Will she wake up?"

"I don't know. This early on, it's just a guessing game, although it would be better for her to just stay in the coma. You don't get much pain in a third degree burn, it burns through pain receptors in your skin. But if they start doing skin grafts like they are talking about, then that _will_ be painful. Also, the right side of her chest is covered in second degree burns. _Those_ are still painful. It's very early on Mr. Hunt, and the skin grafts could take a couple months. I understand that you care for her, but you may not want to beg her to wake up quite yet."

"Can they actually hear you then? If they're in a coma?" Gene's stomach, which hadn't felt like it could sink lower, had dropped even further during Florence's speech. However, he had immense respect for the woman, even though he'd only met her a few minutes earlier.

"I've seen plenty of coma patients in this hospital Mr. Hunt. I've seen men and women sleep away days, weeks, months, even years of their lives blissfully unaware of the hustle and bustle around them. Now, I haven't asked them that question, but I do know this. Those that had people come in and speak to them came back a whole hell of a lot faster than the ones who had no one. So in answer to your question, yes, I believe they do. Talk to her, Gene. But don't persuade her to come back yet. It's far better in the world she's created."

Gene nodded. He found it amazing he was willing to accept this complete stranger's advice. More than he wanted Alex back, he didn't want her to be in pain.

Florence took him into the ICU, and pushed him to the bed that was Alex's. He stared at her. Besides her eyes, only the tip of her nose and her lips were visible underneath all the bandages, but even her lips were slightly hidden by the tube that fed her precious oxygen. Gene swore underneath his breath. She looked so fragile. A drip was feeding her nutrients, and her right arm was swathed in bandages, and her left was encased in plaster.

"Jesus," said Gene. "She can't even breathe on her own?"

"Remember Mr. Hunt, you're still on oxygen, and that's eight hours from the time the bomb went off. She was in the flat longer than you. She'll need it more." Florence patted him on the shoulder, and left the room.

Gene stared at Alex, unable to think of anything to say. He adjusted the tube they had put in his nose, wishing he could just rip it out. Gene grinned. There was no one in here except Bolly. She could hardly tell on him, could she?

Gene pulled the tube out of his nose, settling it on the tip of his nose instead. This way, if someone walked in, he could put it in rather quickly. He wanted to let her know he was there, but he could hardly even see her skin through the bandages. Gene placed his left hand on her exposed left pinkie, curling his fingers around the small appendage.

"Bolls," he said softly. "If you didn't want to go on a date with me, you could have just said no." He smiled a small grin to himself. "This is a bit over the top, isn't it? I mean, I know you have a flair for dramatics, but this is ridiculous."

She didn't respond, unknowing that he was there. The only sound in the dark room was the whooshing of oxygen through the tubes that fed them both clean air.

"Jesus, Bolly. Never thought I'd ever see you so quiet. Dunno what to say to you now. I...er...I want you to wake up Alex, but Florence said it may be better if you don't for a while. She said that they're going to have to graft skin. I don't know exactly what that means, Bolls, but she said it'd be painful. I imagine that those burns you have are a bit painful as well. God. What am I doing? I sound like a bloody fool Bolls. Can you hear me in there? Are you laughing at me? I bet you are. But I've never had to talk to anyone in a coma. Sam said never to stop talking. But can you really hear me?"

Alex remained still. Her chest rising and falling was the only movement she could contribute. He watched her, so still, against the white sheets. He stared at the mask of bandages that was her face. Gene wished he could see it, no matter how marred it was.

"I wish I could let you know more, but they've been keeping me here all night Bolly. Won't even let me beat them around." Gene yawned. He was still groggy from the sedatives. He looked up at the clock. It was half three. He didn't move from his position, just kept staring at her. She didn't move at all, but he drew some small comfort from her stillness.

"You know, I told you not to wake up for a while, but that doesn't mean that I don't want you to wake up. I still want you to wake up Bolly, but just hold off until they finish the grafts. It'll be less painful that way. Course, you fight everything else I say, why should now be any different? You're gonna be a bit scarred when you wake up, Bolly. You don't have to worry about that. Anyone who looks at you and only sees scars doesn't deserve you anyway. "

Slowly, Gene drifted off to sleep, keeping his fingers curled determinedly around her little finger.

~(*)~

"The doctor catches you like that, you'll have a bollocking so bad, you won't know where they are later."

Gene jumped to Florence's voice. "Shit, Florence. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I came in to tell you to go back to bed. Obviously I was right that you'd be tired." Gene didn't say anything. "And you took out your cannula. Oh you are really lucky the doctor didn't catch you." She put the cannula back in place underneath his nose and wheeled him back to his room.

"Doctor'll be in in an hour or so. You're going on the mask till then. I'm not getting a bollocking cause you can't listen to common sense." Gene didn't bother to argue. This woman was too much like his mother, and if he argued, he figured she'd wallop him one.

Gene relaxed as Florence left, not letting Alex escape from his mind. He would say she looked fragile, but Christ, he couldn't even see her underneath all the bandages. Gene fell into a fitful sleep, the still form of Alex haunting all his nightmares.

**TBC....**


	6. Chapter 5: 9052 Days After

**Well, its been a while, hasn't it? (Well with my posting habits anyway) Sorry, chapter 6 (the next chapter I'll post. Not this one. You can see clearly in the title it is chapter 5) was being COMPLETELY evil and refusing to be written. So, I must thank Blue-Jackal for being amazing and helping me to get the bug back. (see if you can find the mention of her in the chapter...besides here of course :P) Disclaimers that i don't own ashes and characters and such. Also a humongous thanks to those who have read, reviewed and favourited!(and those that added to story alert.  
**

**Anyway! You've waited over a week. READ! (and enjoy?)**

**Chapter 5: 9052 Days After**

_October, 1983_

_The doctor stared at Gene, who stared at Alex. The stillness in the room was absolute. No sound emerged from anyone's lips. No one blinked, no finger twitched. The men were transfixed on the woman in front of them. Gene held her hand, he hadn't moved in hours. Every day he had come to visit her, wait for her to wake up. And every day, he had watched her lay unresponsive, unknowing that he was even there. _

_Her bandages were crisp, clean and white, as were the linens on her bed. They still contrasted greatly with her brunette hair, but blended in with her skin. She had grown so pale over the past week._

"_Pseudomonas," they had said. "A pathogen," they called it. He didn't care what it was, what it was called. He just wanted her to be okay. _

_She had come round for a day or so. She'd complained of feeling sick. The doctor had brushed it off as after effects of the drugs she was on. Then they had removed the bandages to change them. Gene knew it hadn't looked right as soon as he saw it. Green in a wound was never a good sign. He called to Florence. She had come in and called the doctor. They had intervened with all sorts of drugs, but it hadn't mattered. The infection was too far along. The next day she had a fever, and was delirious. And then she'd slipped back into a coma, becoming unresponsive once more._

_Gene laid his hand on her head. It was still burning hot, and her forehead was still covered in sweat. But no monitor beeped to the rhythm of her heart, no pulse rested beneath her skin._

_Gene heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He didn't look away from the woman on the bed in front of him._

"_Gene." It was Florence. He didn't respond, didn't turn around to face her. "Gene. Come on. It's time to go. It's over." _

_She pulled him out of the seat and out of the room. He stopped at the door to stare back on the woman who had changed his life so drastically. She lay completely still in the bed, the colour of death. Alex was gone. He'd never see her smile again._

_~(*)~_

**July, 2008**

Gene slammed the door of his flat behind him, still seething. That _woman_. She had looked so much like his Alex. But she couldn't be Alex. Alex was dead. Alex had died twenty-five years ago. He still remembered the look on her face when she realised what was going on. He remembered her delirious in fever, calling out in fear to him, unable to realise he was there next to her. He remembered her becoming still once more, slipping back into the coma she had been in for so long. He remembered holding her hand as she exhaled her final breath, as her monitors went flat and sounded out a final beep. He remembered the doctors rushing around her, trying to save her, before they finally gave up, shaking their heads.

He had felt the pain of losing her. And then he had seen her today in the fish bar that had taken over Luigi's. Only it wasn't her. It was Alex Price. An Alex Price who had a daughter named Molly, was a DI and a police psychologist, and whose surname had apparently changed to Drake.

Gene hadn't believed her. He couldn't believe her. What were the chances that the little girl he knew as an eight-year-old in 1981 would grow up to look so much like his Bolly? He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. And yet... She looked the same. She sounded the same. Her hair and makeup were different, but times were different as well.

Gene recalled the day she had woken up with clarity, he had been so full of hope. They were going to get ready to do her skin grafts. The wounds had healed enough for them to start. He had told her that it would only be a few more days till she could wake up. He should have known something was wrong when she woke up only a few hours after that statement.

The doctors and nurses had been excited. She had been in a coma for nearly two months. They didn't know if the skin grafts would be worth it if she didn't wake up. Gene had been excited as well, but he was nervous about her waking up before they did the skin grafts. He had missed her, but he didn't want her to go through more pain than necessary.

He remembered as her eyes opened, and he stared into the hazel for the first time in nearly two months. He had stared, expecting the confusion to clear away in a moment. But it hadn't. Instead as she had looked around the room, her frown of unknowing had grown deeper.

Gene had never forgotten the first words she had spoken to him, nor the conversation that had followed. "Who are you?"

Three words. Three words had torn his whole hopeful world apart. He decided he'd try.

"I'm Gene Hunt. Your DCI."

"What's a DCI?"

Six words. Six words that told him all he needed to know. Her memory had gone. Still, she may be in there somewhere.

"Detective Chief Inspector. Police."

"Did I do something wrong? Are you here to arrest me?"

"No Alex, you're police too."

"Who's Alex?" If Gene's stomach could have, it would have sunk even lower. She had lost her memory. It was completely clean. Still, something must be there if she knew that police were equated with arresting people.

"You are."

"My name is Alex?"

"Yes. Your full name is Alexandra Drake, but you go by Alex."

"And I'm a police officer?"

"Yes, you're one rank below me, Detective Inspector. Best one I've had too."

She took in the information quietly, accepting everything as truth. She didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that she couldn't remember anything.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital Alex. Do you remember anything? Think really hard."

God, he was telling her to _think. _That was a change from normal.

She closed her eyes, and thought hard.

"Erm... there was...a car. Red. Four rings. A little girl...not so little though. A phone...a mobile...Ferries...And there was...I was...a flat. I was in a flat."

"Can you describe it, Alex?" Gene asked, feeling hope building, even through the rambling nonsense that most of her statement was. Maybe she could remember her flat. Then, when she was released from the hospital they could go there and trigger her memory.

"Erm..." She was thinking hard, he could tell. Finally her eyes opened and she stared at him apologetically. "No. I just know it was a flat. A woman's flat. The woman has the car. She has the mobile."

"That's it?" Gene's stomach sunk. Whatever she was talking about, it wasn't her flat, or what had happened.

"Yeah. What happened...err..."

"Gene." Gene reminded her quietly.

"Gene," she whispered, staring at his face. "Gene...Gene Hunt. DCI. Police."

Gene wanted to leave. She seemed almost like a child. He couldn't bear it, but he knew he had to.

"Your flat was blown up, Alex. You were in there. You've got some major burns. You've been in the hospital for nearly two months in a coma. They're going to start completely healing the burns in a few days."

He had to try to stop himself from using the voice he had with Donny. She was too much like a child. His voice was naturally changing to happier tones just because of the way she was acting.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"You hit your head. It'll come back Alex. I promise."

She had smiled at him, and then promptly fallen asleep.

The next day she had woken up and remembered his name right away, much to his delight. She didn't remember anything about her life at all though, and Gene knew that she would have some major problems to work through once she got home.

The third day, however, she had woken up moaning. "I don't feel good, Gene," she had whispered to him. Gene stared at her. She looked a bit paler than she had the day before, and he sent for the doctor. The doctor had checked her over and pronounced her as in good health, there was no fever or anything. An aide had come in later to change her dressing.

Gene had noticed then that something was wrong. Without scaring her, he went out to where the nurses were and got Florence.

"Her burn, on her arm. Its green. It's not supposed to be green. It wasn't green when the dressing was changed a few days ago."

"Gene, calm down," said Florence, who was now on first name terms with him. "Let me check it, and if there is anything, I'll call the doctor, okay?"

Gene had nodded, but he had known in his gut that something was very wrong. And when he knew something in his gut, he was almost always right.

Florence had gone in, stopping the aide as they changed the dressing. The aide was brand new, had never worked in the hospital before. So he hadn't noticed the last time he had changed the dressing.

He hadn't noticed the small spot that had grown. Instead, Gene had noticed it four days later, after the infection had spread rapidly. If the aide had noticed, the antibiotics could have been administered sooner. Then she might have had a chance.

Florence had gotten the doctor as soon as she saw the wound. They had started Alex on emergency treatment, but it was too late. The toxins had spread too far. The next day she slept, only waking in delirium, knowing no one, and convinced that those who tried to help her were trying to hurt her.

On 8 October, she had slipped back into a coma. Two days later she had died. Her fever was raging hot for the last few days of her life, and she'd let out an occasional moan. They had tried to cool her down with ice, with cool packs, with cold towels. Nothing had brought the fever down for long, and eventually, her body had gotten too hot, and her brain had sent the signal to her heart to stop.

They had tried to revive her, but they had told Gene that even if she did survive, it would have been with brain damage from such a high fever. No, they had told him, it was better that she had not come back.

Gene had wanted the aide fired. He made sure that it was followed through, but even then, he didn't feel justice. Florence had talked to him in the hospital for a while after Alex had died, but then he had been alone. Gene couldn't take another DI dying on him. He had hardly gotten over Sam's death.

He had turned in his badge just two days later and had spent the past twenty-five years living miserably. Luigi's had been sold to a chippy. He visited the chippy often, because in some odd way, it had made him feel closer to her.

He had watched from the outside as the station had been torn down, as person by person was pensioned off, or sent to a different station. He had watched as Ray changed stations, never able to feel completely useful. He had watched as Chris and Shaz had finally gotten their act together and gotten married, and as their children started to grow.

Gene Hunt had spent the past twenty-five years watching for someone he knew would never come. Watching for someone he could never see. Waiting for death to see the ones he had loved again.

And today. Today he had found her. The one who could never come, who he couldn't see. She had been standing in the chippy, talking to Seb, asking about what had happened twenty five years ago. She had introduced herself as the Price's daughter.

He had asked her her profession, noting how her eyes were the exact hazel of Alex Drake's. Her hair was the same colour. Her stance was the same. Her accent was just as posh as the day she had first arrived in CID.

But she couldn't be Alex Drake. Alex Drake had died twenty-five years before. Alex Drake had a gravestone in a cemetery, the inscription becoming weathered. Alex Drake was a complete nutter who had acted like she had known everything.

Then she had introduced herself. Gene had gotten only five words. Alex Drake, police psychologist, and Molly.

Alex Drake, crazy Alex Drake. Psychology, entering his kingdom, annoying the hell out of him, always being right. Molly. Her daughter. The one she always had to see. The one she was always pining for. Stood right in front of him, but could only be twelve at most. Not in her thirties like she should be. Alex was in her thirties, not her fifties like she should be. Everything in Gene screamed out that this was Alex, but at the same time, everything had screamed out that this was wrong.

So he had done the only thing he could do.

He had gotten angry. He had yelled at Seb, told him that he wasn't coming back. He had stormed out on the Price girl, the one who claimed she was Alex Drake. He had brushed her off as she had come to plea with him.

And he had left himself alone once more.

Gene didn't understand it. And he knew that things you didn't understand were best left alone. So he left her alone on the street, going back home only to wallow in misery at the things he didn't understand but wanted to. And here he was, alone, just like he would be till the end of his days.

**TBC...Reviews are most definitely appreciated :)**


	7. Chapter 6:1138 Days Before

**SO! I've _finally_ figured out who the rest of the plot, so hopefully the rest of the fic comes faster! Thanks to all who've read and reviewed! It means a lot!**

**Chapter 6: 1138 Days Before**

Two years. It had been two years since she had woken up on Molly's twelfth birthday like nothing had happened. Two years, and she had not had a dream since about being in the 1980's like she had the night of 19 July, 2008. That day that had followed was ingrained in her mind forever. The worst part was the fact she still didn't know if it was real or not.

She had spent the last two years driving herself mad over the fact that she didn't know what the world really represented. In an act of stunning hypocrisy, she refused to see a psychologist, claiming that they didn't know anything. She decided that morning that she was going to go in and solve the mystery once and for all.

She had known that all files before a certain date were kept in paper, but she was hoping she could find them in the archives of the computer. Doubtless there was someone who had spent hours putting in all the old files into the system to make it more efficient. Alex found herself praying silently as she clicked into the personnel files on the computer. Instantly, a password was requested.

"_Shit," _she thought to herself. How was she supposed to get a password for it? She knew she wasn't allowed to look in these files without a specific reason, and the excuse "I'm doing it to find out if someone I dreamt about was real or not" didn't cut it.

At that moment, someone came up to her from behind her desk. "Personnel files, Alex?"

Alex's stomach sunk. It was her DCI. Surely she was now going to get a bollocking. Alex turned around to face her DCI, a stern looking man of about forty. He had dark brown hair and chocolate eyes which never betrayed any of his emotions, but weren't unkind either. It seemed almost as though her DCI was staring through her. She really respected the man, and she was in no way terrified of him, but she was still cautious.

"Erm, yes," said Alex, trying to think of an excuse.

"Do you have a reason?" He had crossed his arms and was leaning on one leg now.

Alex looked at the little box that demanded a password. What was she supposed to do?

Suddenly, she became aware of her DCI leaning in over her. His fingers moved against the keyboard, typing out a sequence of letters and numbers. He stopped, and the box disappeared, opening up the personnel files.

"You better have a damn good reason Drake," he muttered. "I'm not supposed to tell know that either, so if you get caught and you tell someone, my knackers'll be in a vice, and you'll be one unhappy DI, as I'll take all my pain and anger on you."

Alex laughed as he walked away, completely unnerved at the Gene-ness of his comments. It had been two years since she had heard his rude comments, but he was the first person she thought of.

Alex shook her head clear, knowing that she needed a clear head to work this mystery out. She looked at the bar that said _search. _She took a deep breath, put her fingers to the keyboard and typed.

_Gene Hunt._

Instantly the computer screen changed, switching to a list of names. Two names popped up. She glanced over the first name, a Eugene S Hunt. He was still actively serving in the force, and she knew that Gene would probably not be serving at this point, as he'd be in his mid-seventies. She clicked on the line that said _Gene A. Hunt. _Instantly, her screen popped up with the photo that was on his warrant card. She leaned into the computer and started reading the contents of his file.

_Name: Hunt, Gene Arvel_

_Rank: Detective Chief Inspector (Retired)_

_District: Fenchurch East_

_Notes: (Nov. 1983) Retired from MET October 1983 after three years at Fenchurch East. Reasons for retirement were not given, but it is suspected that it has to do with the death of a second DI in four years. Was quoted saying that "there was just no point anymore," before drinking nearly an entire bottle of scotch whilst on duty, the day after Detective Inspector Alexandra Drake died from complications from injuries sustained in an explosion. When brought in the next day to discuss, he resigned, saying "he couldn't take anymore."_

_Report compiled by Chief Superintendent Clay._

Alex stared sadly at the paper. He had retired the day after she had died. He couldn't do it anymore. After Sam had died, and she followed, he couldn't take the force. Alex buried her face in her hands, but quickly looked up. There was still one question she had to solve. Did she just make up her life as DI Alex Drake from what she had heard about the woman, or had she really gone back in time?

Alex clicked on the search bar once more. In the bar she typed _Alex Drake. _About ten results popped up, and she weeded them out quickly by looking at the gender. There were two left. One was still on duty, and she knew that was her. Resisting the urge to see what her super said about her, she clicked on the other name. Instantly, the file came up on her screen. Alex let out an audible gasp as she saw the photo that popped up. It was her. She minimised the personnel files, and clicked into personnel files again, hoping that it wouldn't bring her what was already open. To her delight, a new window came up, only this time, it wasn't demanding a password. She typed her name into the search bar again, and clicked on the one she knew was her own personnel file. She pulled the second window to the corner, making it fill half the screen. Then she took her first window, the one with the 1980's Alex Drake and pulled it into the other corner, making it fill the other half of the screen. Except for the style differences, the people in the photos looked exactly the same. The 1980's Alex Drake had the small bump on her nose, the same shaped eyes, the same odd eye colour. It had to be her. Alex closed out of her 2010 profile, making the 1980's one full screen once more.

_Name: Drake, Alexandra Faren_

_Rank: Detective Inspector (Deceased)_

_District: Fenchurch East_

_Notes: (Oct. 1983) Died 10 October, 1983, after complications from injuries sustained in explosion. Prolonged coma, followed by a brief period of consciousness where no memory was evident. Had a profound effect on Detective Chief Inspector Hunt, who retired two days after her death. No leads on who put the bomb in her flat, or why. _

_Report compiled by Chief Superintendent Clay_

It had to be her. She had never heard of anyone else with the middle name of Faren. She had really gone back in time. But the question was, what had happened with Arthur Layton? He had shot her in the head, which is what had sent her back. But she had never been shot. She had gone to sleep on the nineteenth, and she had woken up on the twentieth just fine, and had a perfectly normal day. Well, not perfectly normal. But she hadn't been shot.

Alex closed out of the personnel files and looked up at the clock. Gone six. It would be beer o'clock at Fenchurch. She missed going to Luigi's and getting pissed almost nightly. Her house now stored a variety of liquor, something that had shocked Molly. Alex would have a glass of wine with dinner, and then several more after Molly went to bed. Still, getting pissed now was different. There was no one to blow smoke in her face, no Italian to tell her that she was drinking too much, no tall blonde haired men to push her up the stairs when she could hardly stand. There was no riotous laughter, no background music, absolutely nothing. Nothing to remind her of 1983. She had only seen Gene once, the day he had pushed her away. It took her all of her willpower to not find out where he lived and pester him until he would talk to her.

Alex walked out of the station and stopped dead in her tracks. Parked outside the station was an Audi Quattro. Alex couldn't help herself. She walked straight to the Quattro, standing in front of the bonnet checking to see if it was all real.

"Erm...can I help you?"

Alex stood quickly and quickly turned. A woman was standing behind her, staring at her curiously.

"I'm sorry," Alex said quickly. "It's just...I knew someone who had one of these."

"Really?" the woman asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah," Alex said. "Probably crashed the thing though, the way he drove."

"That'd be a shame," the woman responded. "They're great cars. Course, I love all old cars. I've got quite a collection of them."

"Wish I could say the same. Although the only car I would really want would be a Quattro."

"The car made that much of an impression on you? Who drove it? Father? Uncle? You wouldn't have. You're too young."

"No," Alex laughed. "He wouldn't let anyone touch his motor. He was quite proud of the cars he drove."

"So, father or uncle?" the woman asked again.

"Erm...neither," Alex responded. "It was a copper. He saved my life."

"I would imagine that would make an impression," the woman mused. "Oh right! I haven't even introduced myself. Rachel Adams," she said quickly, extending her hand.

"Alex Drake," Alex responded, shaking her hand.

"So do you work there?" asked Rachel, nodding her head towards the station.

"Yeah," said Alex. "I'm a DI."

"A DI? My uncle was a DI. Worked over at Fenchurch East before it closed down, and then moved to Hackney. He didn't like his rank though. He always said that he didn't deserve it, and would never live up to the DI before him. Uncle Ray would never talk about what happened to the DI, or even say his name."

"Ray Carling?" Alex asked before she could stop herself.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Alex chastised herself inwardly. She was walking herself into so many corners today! How was she supposed to explain this one away now?

"Erm...I met him...when my parents were...killed," Alex said honestly. Well, it was true, wasn't it? He and Chris had looked after her until Evan had taken her home. She just hadn't known his name at the time.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It was a long time ago."

"I'm going to see him now, do you want to come?"

"Oh, I don't think he'd recognise me," Alex protested. "I was just a child at the time."

"All the more reason to go! He'd love to meet someone that he hasn't seen in years."

Alex gave a small uncomfortable laugh, unable to find an excuse out of it. Molly was staying at a mate's house for the night. She'd had nothing planned, save for getting pissed. "Sure. Okay, why not?"

"Brilliant!" said Rachel, hopping into the Quattro.

"Let's fire up the Quattro," Alex muttered to herself as Rachel started the car.

~(*)~

Alex stood nervously outside the door, Rachel smiling assuringly at her.

"He seems a bit gruff, but he's an old softie, I swear. It's just all the years in the police force that's done that to him."

The door opened to reveal a man with bright blue eyes. His greying hair had receded, and the signs of his years were evident in the lines that crossed his face. His eyes swept the step, widening as they stared at Alex.

"Uncle Ray, this is my mate Alex. She said she knew you, so I invited her along. I hope you don't mind."

Ray seemed to be having trouble focussing on Rachel. "No...No that's fine. Come in."

Alex cautiously entered into Ray's house, following closely behind Rachel. Rachel gestured to her to sit on the sofa, and Alex sat, looking curiously around the room.

Its furnishings were sparse, and though the room had a lived-in feel, it also had a distinctly military feel.

"Alex, what would you like to drink?"

"Red wine would be great," Alex said.

Rachel handed Alex a rather full glass of red wine, and Alex sipped it, missing the taste of Luigi's house rubbish.

"You said you knew me," Ray's voice said suddenly, nearly causing Alex to lose her drink. "I don't remember ever seeing you before." He wasn't rude, only curious.

"Erm...I was only a child, that's why," Alex said. "My name was Alex Price."

Alex saw the shock cross Ray's face before he composed himself. "Tim and Caroline Price's daughter?"

"Yes," Alex said firmly.

"Never thought I'd see you again! How has your life been since...erm..."

Alex nearly laughed. Same old tactless Ray.

"Been average I suppose. Graduated from University, joined the police, got married, had a daughter, got divorced, and now here I am."

"Joined the police? I figured you would have followed in your parent's footsteps."

"No. After the explosion, you and the G...DCI Hunt and Chris all made me want to be a copper."

Alex noted that Ray kept staring at her face, studying her features. Suddenly the door opened, and a loud Mancunian voice echoed through the hall.

"Ray, you bastard! You better have that bloody whiskey you owe me or your knackers will be the colour of hazelnuts with a bunch of starved squirrels around!"

The man came around the corner and stopped dead. Alex caught a flash of anger cross his face before turning to Ray.

"Guv, this is Alex Price. Rachel found her and brought her here to say hello. Do you remember her?"

Gene reluctantly turned back to her, his silvery blue eyes flashing. "We met a few years ago," he said his voice clipped.

Ray looked between Alex and Gene, knowing something was clearly wrong with the Guv. Rachel, who seemed to feel the tenseness, stood quickly.

"Alex, I've got to get going. I'll drop you back off that the station shall I?"

"Yes, that's great," Alex said, not looking at Gene. "Thank you Ray."

"Not a problem love. I'll see you next week Rachel."

"Bye Gene," said Rachel.

"Bye love." Alex tried to slip past Gene, but he stopped her, staring straight down at her.

"You're not _her. _Stop showing up in my life." He released her, and Alex quickly followed behind Rachel, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. Twice in the future she had met him, and twice he had rejected her. She had to go back. She needed her Gene back.

_~(*)~_

_He glared as she left, her hips swaying exactly as Alex's used to. _

"_Guv? Guv? You okay?" Ray's voice was calling to him from a distance._

_Gene shook his head and focussed on the man who used to be his DI. "She keeps popping up. It's not right."_

"_What isn't?"_

"_She looks just like Alex...different clothes, different hair, but she is JUST like Alex was."_

"_I noticed that too. And the fact that she knew my name. I never told little Alex Price my name. She didn't even really look at me."_

"_That's the thing though. She can't be Alex."_

"_Do you think she's really Alex Price, Guv?"_

"_I dunno. She'd be the right age. Was that how she introduced herself to you?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_That's how she introduced herself to me too. And then she said her surname was Drake, she was a police psychologist, and her daughter's name was Molly."_

"_Bloody hell. Do you think it's just someone messing with your head?"_

"_I dunno. But I will get to the bottom of this. She can't be Alex, and I'm going to make her admit it."_

* * *

A/N: Gene's middle name means wept over. Alex's means Wanderer. I love name meanings, don't you? Also, Alex is using Windows 7 at the police station, so that's why she can just drag and make windows cover half the screen.

* * *

**TBC! (it all gets a bit mad next chapter..)___________________________________________________________________________________________________________|1|  
**


	8. Chapter 7: 42 Days Before

**Look what I found! I know its been a little while *cough cough* since I last updated... I got kind of wrapped up in Only Scarlet Avenges Sable and sorta forgot about this. Thanks to my wonderful Beta Ferndavant for checking this all over!**

**Chapter 7: 42 Days Before**

Gene stared out his office door into CID, looking at the empty desk that seemed like a giant hole sucking all of the energy out of the room. It had been two weeks, and she was still in a coma. The doctors had said it was the head injury that was keeping her under. Gene had been there every single day since the explosion, talking to her, quietly trying to persuade her that she needed to wake up.

Still, she slumbered on, and they had no leads on who had blown up her flat. The fire brigade had told him that someone had wired up her television to explode when she turned it on. It had activated a timer that had ticked down until finally it had exploded.

They had estimated the amount of explosives that had been contained in the device and concluded that she was lucky to be alive. They had told him that he was looking for a very experienced person, someone who had either had a job working with explosives or had blown things up before. Gene's mind went immediately to Layton, but he knew he had no evidence to prove it. Most of the evidence had been blown up, and the best witness was currently unconscious in the hospital, doctors unable to say when, or even if, she would wake up..

Gene looked at the clock. It was beer o' clock. He released CID, containing a small smirk as they ran out like animals, afraid that he'd change his mind. He headed straight to the hospital. Gene walked into the side ward where she had been put because of her injuries. There was a change from yesterday. The bandages that had covered her face were gone, leaving her marred with various cuts from the flying glass. Most of the cuts were small, but Gene noted at least four that he knew would scar. One crossed her right eyebrow, and another extended from her left temple to halfway down her cheek. A third crossed her perfect lips, and a fourth ran the length of her right jaw. A turban-like bandage still covered her hair, protecting the wound in the back of her head. The tube that fed her oxygen was still firmly in place, helping her to breathe. The room was quiet save for the quiet whoosh of oxygen through the tubes and the steady beating of the heart monitor.

"No change then, Bolly? 'Bout the same as us, you are. We've got nothing to go on to catch the bastard who did this. We could really use your psychiatry right now."

Gene stared at her still form, half expecting her eyes to open and for her to snap 'psychology' at him. She didn't, however, remaining completely silent, completely unaware that he was there.

"She's doing fine, Gene, considering," said Florence's voice from behind him.

"Considering she's halfway to dead?" Gene asked bitterly.

Florence just looked at him, and Gene looked down at the floor uncomfortably. "Don't blame her for this, Gene. Believe me; she didn't want to be blown up."

"I know. It's...It's just..." Gene stopped. He didn't share his feelings with anyone, not even nurses or people in comas.

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

"Gene..."

"Ahh, good. He's here." A voice said. Gene looked up. A man with dark hair and glasses had entered the room. He was wearing a dark grey suit and looked like he had come straight out of the fifties. The man smiled, his hands in his pockets. "DCI Hunt. I'm DCI Jim Keats. Discipline and Complaints."

"I know who you are. What I don't know is why the hell you're here."

"There's been a rumour, and let me stress that it's _JUST _a rumour, that you're the one who planted the bomb in DI Drake's flat."

"_WHAT?"_ Gene bellowed. "You think I could...You dare say I..." Gene was in such a rage he was fumbling for words.

Alex's monitor started beeping slightly faster, cutting Gene off as he quickly looked at her. She was as still as ever, but the monitor showed what her body did not. She was being affected by something.

"Mr. Keats," Florence interjected firmly. "I must ask you to leave. DI Drake is only allowed one visitor at a time, and DCI Hunt is currently visiting with her. You'll have to wait outside.."

She stared him down with a look of fury that Gene could never even hope to match. Keats looked between him and Alex, giving a small smirk. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gene."

Keats walked out of the room, head held high and a cocky bounce in his step.

"Bastard," he heard Florence swear. They were distracted again however, as Alex's heart monitor slowed down once more. "Well that tears it," Florence said. "She responds to him, but not in a desirable way. It's clear that his presence distresses her. I'll talk to the doctor and get him banned from visiting her."

"You can do that?"

"I can, and I will. Don't worry, Gene. Alex will get through this, and that bastard won't get you at all. I swear."

"How can you be so confident Florence?"

"Well, usually if the person blows someone up they don't come to visit. Plus, it's the way you interact with her. It'd even be clear to that Chris of yours that it wasn't you who'd done this."

Florence bustled off, leaving Gene alone with Alex once more. "Can you clear my name, Bolly? Do you know who did this? You need to wake up and tell us. Understand?"

She lay motionless, the steady whoosh of air and beep of the heart monitor her only response.

~(*)~

Gene stared into his glass of whiskey, knowing it would not drown his sorrows. He had tried for years to drown lesser sorrows in the haze of booze, but they had just come back tenfold when he sobered up, accompanied by a blinding headache. Fags didn't work either. He had no way to rid himself of his sorrows. He would not admit it to anyone, but he was lonely. Birgit and he had been separating for years, but it had still surprised him when she had lain the divorce papers on the table for him to find. It was a long, bitter, painful divorce, and he only got through it because Sam was there.

Then Sam had driven his car into the river. Bloody poof. Gene couldn't stay up in Manchester after that. There were too many memories there. His father beating him and his brother to tears, Stu dying in his arms, Birgit leaving for someone else, Sam never being found. Although he had been scared to come to London, he had been more scared to stay in Manchester. What would that cursed city send his way next?

After Alex had been blown up, he had realised that it was not the city that was cursed, it was him. He was destined to live a miserable existence till the end of his days. Possibly it was because of the way he treated the scum of the street, but in Gene's eyes they deserved that treatment.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. All he could see with his eyes shut was Alex. Alex in the flat, unaware as flames flickered angrily around her. Alex swathed in bandages, not even her face visible. The cuts and bruises that still covered her face even though the bandages were gone. He wondered if he could ever see her as she was again.

Gene hoped desperately that she would get through this. She had to. She had always fought everything. She was tough. She could do it. Florence had confidence in her.

Florence had become his crutch. She was the one that consoled him in the long nights, even when he displayed no emotions whatsoever. She had reassured him constantly, and always looked after Alex carefully. He knew that he owed his sanity to her.

Gene heard his door swing open. "Drinking already, Gene?" the hated voice said loudly. "That won't help you on this enquiry at all."

"Don't matter," Gene growled. "I would _never_ harm Alex."

"I have a statement that says you would," said Keats, flipping through the file in his hands.

"And where'd you get that? One of your D&C mates tell you what you want to hear? I know why you're here, Keats. You want to see me go down. And you'll try and make the evidence fit, won't you? Because you know without me, this station will fall. If I go down, Ray quits, and so does Chris. Slowly you can dismantle this station. And that's exactly what you want. Fenchurch doesn't conform to your 'vision.' Well you can sod the bloody _vision_ because I have witnesses that know that I would never do anything like that, nor do I even know how to work explosives."

"But that's the thing, Gene, isn't it? _You _don't know how to work explosives. But you know plenty who do. Shall I drop some names?" Keats smiled and stared Gene straight in the eye. "First one: Lisa Ross. You've put her away for robbery once, but she got off rather easy, didn't she Gene? Not a long prison sentence for her. Could you have persuaded her to blow up Alex's flat, since you knew she had form for explosives?

"Or how about Shawn Miller? Known accomplice of the IRA leader taken in last year, but somehow magically got off.

"Or...how about this name. You should know it real well. Arthur. Layton," Keats hissed. "Suspected of killing the Prices, but magically disappeared from the scene of the crime. Had luckily been bailed out of jail earlier that day."

"By his lawyers!"

"But that's just a cover story isn't it, Gene? You said the lawyers bailed him out, when, in actuality, you gave him his freedom in return for a few favours. Blow up the bastard lawyers who gave you all the trouble. Blow up the woman who wants to take the station into the future, who constantly nags you. And you know the funny thing, Gene? Your last DI, who was noted to have a personality like Drake's, ended up with his car in the river, never to be found again. How convenient that the man that annoyed you ended up like that."

Gene was seething, his hands shaking with the effort of not punching Keats in his smug bastard face. "Sam Tyler," he said through clenched teeth, "was like my own brother."

"But your brother died too! An overdose. How unfortunate. We all know what you think of druggies, don't we Gene?"

"Druggies convinced my brother over to their side. They killed him."

"We'll see about that, Gene. In the meantime, I suggest you have a nice holiday. Go up to Manchester. See your mum. You're formally suspended pending the investigation. I've already cleared it with your super, and he was all too willing to let me suspend you. What _have _you been doing to that man? Have you been threatening him as well?"

"I haven't threatened _anyone, _Keats."

"Goodbye, Gene. I suggest you leave before your fist does what its itching to and you're in even more trouble than you are already"

Gene's knuckles curled into his palm, nails drawing blood. "Fine," he snapped, grabbing his whiskey and walking out of the door.

"Oh, and you have to stay away from Drake."

"The only way you're gonna keep me away from her is by locking me up, and you don't have anything to charge me on, Jimmy. Good luck trying to get anything against me in this department."

"You know, Julius Caesar felt that way as well, Gene. '_Et tu, Brute?' _Who's gonna be your Brutus and stab you in the back?"

"No one. I trust my team. That must sound odd, people trusting people, but for normal departments that aren't headed by arseholes like you, it happens quite frequently."

With that, Gene uncorked his whiskey and walked out the doors, heading straight for the hospital. They could remove him from Alex's side when he was dead, and not a bloody second sooner.

**...to be continued...**


	9. Chapter 8: 8 Days Before

**can i just apologize for taking FOREVER to finish this? First OSAS got in the way... and then i lost my muse. But it has been completed! CHaps will be coming quickly now :D**

**Chapter 8: 8 Days Before**

Gene stared at the still form in the bed. He had hardly left Alex's side since he had been suspended. Her condition had not changed much since that day. The only difference was that the plaster on her left arm had disappeared, leaving a little more skin revealed. Slowly he was getting his Bolly back. Now all she needed was to wake up.

Gene had initially told her to wake up after the skin grafts, but the doctors had told him she needed to do otherwise. They still didn't know if Alex would wake up. They had told him that if Alex was not going to wake up, there was no point in doing the grafts. Gene found this explanation completely obvious but was surprised that he had not even thought of it.

He stared at her face. The turban-like bandage had been removed and so had the tube that fed her oxygen. The doctors had done some tests a few days earlier and found she could breathe by herself. Gene had been happy to see her face completely clear of bandages and medical equipment, but the scars were still livid against her pale face.

Gene ran his finger down the pink scar on the right side of her jaw. "C'mon Alex. Wake up. We've gotta catch the bastard who did this to you."

"I couldn't agree more," a deep voice said behind him.

Gene started and turned around. A tall man with dark hair "Chief Superintendant Clay!" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on DI Drake, first off. How is she?"

"She's improving, sir, but she still hasn't regained consciousness. They need her to wake up before they can start the skin grafts."

The super nodded and gave Alex a long look. "She's lucky."

Gene nodded in agreement. "She is sir. Still don't know why someone would blow up her flat though."

"That's actually the second reason I came here, Gene," the super said.

"You found something out?" he asked hopefully.

"No." Gene felt his stomach fall at the one syllable uttered by his super.

"But the fact is, Gene," he continued. "I don't think priority's been given to the case. After you were suspended, it got dropped."

"So the enquiry never happened?" Gene was starting to get angry.

"As far as I can gather, after DCI Keats went to your super to get you suspended, he took over CID and dropped the case. So no, the enquiry was never done, and that wanker of a super didn't bother to make sure it was. It just came to my attention today that you were still on suspension. When I first heard, I'd figured you'd be back within the week. Any idiot can see that you didn't try to blow her up. So I'm here to tell you that you can come back. I'm giving you Skelton, Carling, and Granger, and you're going to find out who did this to Drake, do you understand?"

"What about the rest of my team?"

"I'm leaving them under Keats for the time being, because otherwise he'll probably just get in your way. This'll keep him from watching your every move."

Gene grinned. "Thank you sir."

"Now, I understand that you've been with Drake since the day you got suspended, but we really need you at the station. So tell her you'll be back later and get your arse to the station."

"Yes sir." Chief Superintendant Clay left the room and Gene returned to Alex's side.

"Hey Bolls," he said softly. "I'm gonna leave, but I'll be back tonight, okay?" He stared at her, hoping for a response, but nothing happened.

Gene ran his finger through a lock of hair and squeezed her hand goodbye. He felt guilty as he walked out, but left anyway, the steady sound of her heart monitor the only thing enabling him to leave.

~(*)~

Gene sat in his tiny new office, staring at the three who were now the only members of his team. They looked delighted to see him.

"Right," he said. "Does Keats know you're here?"

"No," Ray responded immediately. "Chief Superintendant Clay made up some story about us being seconded to his office or something."

"And he believed that?"

"Seemed to, Guv. He spent the rest of yesterday taunting us asking how we were able to impress the super. Said we were too lazy, stupid, and a woman, respectively."

Gene felt anger building in his stomach. "Well, obviously you're not, because I'm doing this on the orders of the super. That's the only reason I'm back."

"It's good to have you back Guv," Chris interjected.

"Thanks Chris. Here's what's going to happen. We've got three suspects that I know of off the top of my head. First there's someone named Lisa Ross. You should remember her. Did some time for robbery, not nearly enough. She's used explosives in the past.

"Second, there's Shawn Miller. He was the accomplice of an IRA leader. We all know the reputation of the IRA."

The small group nodded. "Are those the only two, Guv?" Chris asked.

"No," Gene announced dramatically. "There's one more person. Arthur Layton. He's the one I want the most. He has the most history with Drake. I still think he was behind the bomb in the Price's car. Find those three. And for the love of God, don't let Keats know what we're up to!"

The little group nodded. Shaz immediately left to get the files for the people Gene had mentioned. She arrived back only a few moments later, her arms full.

"Here are the files, Guv," she said. Gene pulled the top one off and threw it to Ray. "Ray, you get Shawn Miller. Chris, you get the bird." He threw the second file onto Chris' desk. "I'll get Layton. If they don't come quietly, use police brutality to shut them up. Got it?"

The two nodded. "Right. Shaz, you can go with Chris. Make sure he doesn't arse it up."

Shaz grinned at the opportunity to do real police work.

"I want these bastards in by the two this afternoon, got it?"

The small chorus of 'Yes, Guvs' surrounded him and he nodded his head, trying to rid himself of the feeling that it didn't feel as good to hear it as when the whole of CID said it.

~(*)~

This was it. Layton was their last hope. Both Lisa Ross and Shawn Miller had been interviewed. They had both been more than willing to talk and give their alibis. They also had been more than willing to tell Gene that Alex was a posh bitch that deserved to be blown up, something that made him want to throw them across the room. Now there was only one person left who Gene felt could have done it. Layton had form for explosives and he had a reason to blow Alex up. Alex was the reason he went to prison in the first place.

She had always seemed to believe that Layton knew more about the Price's deaths than he let on and Gene was inclined to agree. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen Layton at the scene of the Price's car explosion. If Alex had been right about Layton all along, he would feel the need to get rid of her, wouldn't he?

Gene stared at the skinny man across from him. The past few years had not changed him much. His hair was a bit longer and the scar on his cheek stood out less, but that was the only difference.

It had not been difficult to find Layton. Gene knew that eventually Layton would feel safe and go back to his warehouse and he was right. The first place Gene had gone was the warehouse in Shadwell and it was there that he found Layton. Not surprisingly, Layton had tried to run, but Gene had stopped him with a well placed kick.

"Right, Layton," Gene said. "You know what you're here for."

"Actually, Mr. Hunt, I don't. You said something about that bird DI of yours and that was all I heard. Where is she?" he asked innocently.

"You know damn well, I bet," Gene said angrily. Layton betrayed no emotion, his face completely impassive.

"I don't, Mr. Hunt," he said.

"A bomb exploded in DI Drakes flat a few months ago. She's been in a coma since," Gene said flatly, trying not to betray his emotions for her.

Ahh," Layton said with a smile, seeming to open up more. "Someone gave her what she deserved."

"Don't you dare say that!" Gene said, grabbing the lapels of Layton's shirt. So much for keeping calm.

"She deserved it," Layton whispered happily. "The annoying, uptight bitch deserved it." He laughed and started to sing quietly. "I'm happy, hope she's happy too."

Gene threw Layton across the room. "You shut your mouth, scum," he growled. "Now here's the thing. You've got motive."

"You can't put me away for motive alone," Layton interjected. "Can't even charge me. Sure I wanted Drake killed. Who didn't? She was bloody annoying!"

Gene took a deep breath, trying to relax himself. It had been difficult hearing the other two say the exact same thing today. Now his patience was almost shot. He knew he wouldn't be able to interview Layton for much longer without losing it completely and nearly killing the man. Instead, he decided on his last resort.

"You're right. I can't put you away for motive." Layton's impassive face moved into a smirk.

"_However, _Tim Price left a tape when he died." The smirk faded. Gene had to keep himself from grinning. It was working.

"Now, I know you know something about the bomb in DI Drake's flat. If you tell me what you know, I can conveniently forget that tape."

_Won't be hard since I stomped on it and it had nothing to do with you, _Gene thought.

Layton looked up at him, trying to figure out if he was bluffing. Gene stared at him for a moment before starting toward the door.

"Shall I get my other DI to get it for me? I can show you exactly what Tim Price said." God, he really was digging himself a deep hole if Layton called his bluff. As Gene's hand rested on the handle of the door, Layton spoke up.

"You swear you'll forget about that tape?"

"It won't be a problem at all, Layton. Besides, if you confess now, attempted murder is better sentence to have than a double murder and attempted murder of a child."

Gene had to keep from smiling to himself. This was going perfectly. He couldn't believe it, just waiting for someone to come in and ruin it. That was what always happened when a confession was going perfectly. Gene sat in front of Layton, praying that this small stroke of luck continued.

"About three months ago, someone came into my warehouse. I'd never seen him before, but he looked like a copper, so I tried to run. He stopped me and told me he wasn't there to arrest me. He said he wanted to strike a deal with me. We sat down, and he told me what he wanted me to do. It seemed simple enough. All I had to do was attach a bomb to a television set so that it would go off about a minute after the TV was turned on. I told him I could, for the right amount of money. He gave me five hundred pounds right then and told me I'd get the other half after the job was done. Then he told me who I was supposed to target. I can't help it, I was delighted. She's the one that got me sent down two years ago. I didn't like Scrubs," he ended softly.

Gene was trying as hard as he could to reign in his temper. "So," he asked through clenched teeth. "Who was it?"

"It was a copper," Layton said. "A DCI, just like yourself. He was a bit weird though. Wore a giant mackintosh with the neck turned up. He wore these glasses, but halfway through our chat, he took them off and stuck them in his pocket."

"_What was his name?" _Gene asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.

"Jim Keats."

**to be continued**


	10. Chapter 9: Hours Before

**Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Like I said, updates are going to be more recent...as this is the second to last chapter. I'm pretty sure this all makes sense...at least it does in my head. **

**A huge thank you to Blue_Jackal for the dialogue at the beginning...it was created in June and was just waiting to be put in, and i nearly forgot it. but there it is. :D THats all for now, as Sweeney Todd is playing and distracting me.  
**

**Chapter 9: Hours Before**

_He stared at the computer screen, at the two photos of Alex Drake. It couldn't be possible. She couldn't be one in the same. It had taken him three years to track all of his leads back to 1983, and he had arrived at the same conclusion as he was now. Alex Price was Alex Drake. But how? He looked at the date. August 4__th__, 2013. Exactly 30 years to the day since her flat had blown up. It was time to put things straight. _

~(*)~

Alex sat across from Rachel, trying to keep interested in the topic at hand.

"I am dying to take my new BMW on the motorways. With all its M-sport trimmings, oh it's gonna be amazing! Well...that, or a crumpled heap at the side of the road."

Alex nodded her head as Rachel continued. Rachel had a passion for cars, and she sometimes got carried away talking about them. Alex didn't mind, though. In the past several years they had become very close friends.

"I do get a tad over excited when I come off the island and go to the mainland cause I know there are long stretches of dual carriageways where I can easily do 95 and no one will know." Rachel lived on the Isle of Wight, but visited her uncle frequently in London.

Rachel continued, oblivious to the fact that Alex had long since zoned out. "I actually don't speed much in the Quattro cause it's a car that draws people's attention. Although one time, the Cavvy came back from here doing 100mph on one stretch at 1am!"

Alex stifled a yawn. Finally, Rachel seemed to realise that she was completely bored. "Oh I'm sorry," she apologised. "I got caught up and completely forgot that you don't like to talk about this nearly as much as me."

Alex smiled. "It's okay. We all have our little obsessions."

Rachel laughed. "Oh right! You're Miss Psychologist. You can tell me if I'm normal or not!"

Alex pretended to think. "Let's see here. Major obsession with cars...nope. You're an incurable case, Rachel. Sorry."

They were still laughing when they heard the knock on the door. Alex froze. Even though it had been years, she could still distinguish that distinctive knock.

"Excuse me," she muttered to Rachel as she got up. It was all she could do not to run to answer the door. Alex took a deep breath in, and calmly opened the door.

Gene was standing there, tall and proud. His silver blue eyes were burning with confusion and anger. He was stood so close to her that she could see every wrinkle on his weary face, every streak of blonde that remained in his grey hair.

Alex was speechless and so, it seemed, was Gene. She was just shocked by how utterly _old _he looked.

_Right Alex, _she thought. _2013. Not 1983._

"DCI Hunt," she said.

He looked down his nose at her. "Cut the shit, Alex."

Alex looked up at him in surprise.

"Explain."

"Explain what?" she asked nervously.

"How the hell did this happen? How are you here? You died in 1983."

Alex stared up into his face. His eyes were desperate, almost pleading with her.

"Gene?" Rachel's voice inquired. Alex jumped. She had forgotten Rachel was here. "What are you doing here?"

"Ray told me that you two had become close," he replied, not taking his eyes off Alex. "When she wasn't at the address the police station had on file, I figured she might be here."

"Why do you need to talk to her?"

"DI Drake owes me an explanation," he said quietly, his eyes still glaring at her.

"An explanation about what?" Rachel asked.

Alex saw a flicker of annoyance in Gene's eyes.

"It doesn't matter love. Alex, can you come outside to talk?" Alex nodded, apologising with her eyes to Rachel, who looked dumbfounded. Gene led her down the steps of the building until they were in the alley that ran beside the building.

"Gene," she said.

"Damn it Alex," he said angrily. "How is this possible?"

"I don't even know, Gene," she said.

"Explain it to me," he demanded.

Alex looked up to protest, but his eyes were burning with a mixture of anger and confusion. She knew that at this point it was better to just explain than do anything else. Taking a deep breath, she looked up into Gene's eyes and started reciting her unbelievable tale.

~(*)~

Rachel let the dark haired man into Alex's flat. His hair was slicked back and his glasses sat in his pocket. Sometimes she wondered if he really even needed them. He certainly didn't act like it a lot of the time. She didn't know why he had arrived here. Why wouldn't he just come over to her flat later?

She had met this man much in the same way she had met Alex. He was stood outside, staring at her Quattro. They had chatted, and ended up exchanging numbers. He was handsome, even though his hair was slightly too greasy for her liking.

The man sat down at her table staring at her. "You seem disturbed. What's going on?"

"Gene Hunt stopped by," she said, seeing a look of disgust on his face. John Keats had told her all about how Gene had put away his father when he was just a child, how his father had died in prison.

"He got mad at me for asking why he wanted to talk to Alex Drake," she continued nervously. This was Alex's flat. She shouldn't have let John in. John's face snapped up.

"Alex Drake?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah. He said she had some explaining to do to him."

"About her life. She wants to go back. Of course that's not possible. If she dies in the second world, it doesn't mean she dies in the first," he murmured, too quietly to be heard. "But if she dies in the first..."

He looked up, smiling at Rachel.

"Rachel, how long has Gene Hunt been a miserable sod?"

"As long as I've known him," she answered honestly. "Uncle Ray said something about there being a woman..."

"How would you like to make him happy?" John asked her.

"How would we do that?"

John smiled even wider. "You have to trust me completely, Rachel. What I'm going to say next will make me sound like a madman, but I'm not. This is all completely true."

"Okay," she said cautiously.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

John leaned forward, grinning almost maniacally now. "Good. Here's how we are going to do it."

~(*)~

Gene stared at her in disbelief.

"You expect me to believe you travelled through time? You're a nutter."

"Gene, is there really another explanation?"

"Yes. I'm a nutter."

"You're not a nutter, Gene. And neither am I. This really all happened."

"But how were you shot, and then not shot?"

"I have no idea."

She looked up at him, his face a mask of confusion.

"What happened to me, Gene?"

She watched as his eyes looked up, losing himself in the memory of years past.

_Gene stormed into the CID office, everyone looking up in shock. _

"_KEATS!" he roared. _

_Keats looked up, smiling. "Can I help you, Mr. Hunt?"_

"_I think you'll find its DCI, Keats. Chief Super reinstated me."_

"_Did he? Didn't tell me."_

"_He wouldn't, would he?"_

"_Did you need something Gene?" Keats asked smoothly._

"_Yeah," Gene said, motioning to Chris and Ray. "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Alex Drake."_

_A collective gasp went up from around the room. Keats however just laughed. "Me? You're arresting me?"_

_Gene ignored him, pulling him towards an investigation room. The three sat across from Keats, all wearing identical masks of rage. _

"_James Keats, you have been arrested on the charge of the attempted murder of Alex Drake. We have a witness who places you as the one to set up the bomb."_

_Jim relaxed in the chair. "I'm untouchable, Gene," he whispered. "Put me away. But you will never ever defeat me."_

_Gene was seething. "If you confess," he choked through his anger, "your cooperation will be noted. It may reduce your sentence."_

_Keats held his hands up. "Alright, I confess," he said laughingly. "I planned it all. I got Layton to set it up."_

"_Why?" Ray asked, noticing the Guv was clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to not punch the bastard across from him._

"_Because then I win. The whole Met wins. Without her, this station will fall apart at the seams. Besides, she's not even a child for this time."_

"_What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?" Gene bellowed suddenly._

"_You'll find out eventually, Gene," Keats smirked. "Now, in the meantime, the Super won't be too happy with you detaining one of his best officers, especially with no cause."_

"_You have no evidence, Hunt. You just have the word of three men with a grudge."_

"_Actually...we have your whole confession."_

"_No, I'm not signing a thing."_

"_You don't have to. Christopher here has learned something about wearing wires. Right now, WPC Granger is writing down everything you say, as well as a tape recording it."_

_Keats looked momentarily stunned. "What?"_

"_Everything you have said has been heard, Keatsy."_

_Keats' demeanour changed in an instant. Gene had to jump back to avoid the table turning over the lower half of his body as Keats screamed out his rage. _

"_James Keats, you are charged with the attempted murder of Detective Inspector Alex Drake," Ray said, continuing to read Keats his rights as Gene moved up to speak._

"_You better pray she doesn't die, Keats," he said viciously. "Otherwise, you'll wish you had died instead."_

_Shaz appeared in the door, face flushed. "Guv," she said breathlessly. "Hospital rang. Alex...they say she's waking up."_

"Six days later, you were gone," he said quietly. "Keats went down for life. He died in prison in 1990. And then... five years ago, you just pop back into my life. I refused to acknowledge it. Then, after seeing you in Ray's house, I started searching. I finally let myself believe it this morning. But Alex..."

She cut him off, pressing her lips to his.

"I'm going to get back, Gene. There must be a way."

~(*)~

Alex walked back up to her flat. Rachel was standing in the kitchen, looking decidedly nervous.

"You okay?"

"He took Molly," she said.

"What? Who did?" Alex screamed.

"He said it was your only hope of getting back."

That stopped Alex for a moment. Getting back. She had just talked with Gene about it. Was it possible? No. He wouldn't do such a thing.

"Who, Rachel?"

"Keats."

Alex's heart stopped. She had had flashes of her hospital room, and she knew that Keats was the one who had blown her up. He had told her one day. He had asked her to die.

"Where did he take her, Rachel?"

"Where you used to live," she whispered. "He said that if Molly was gone, you could go back and Gene would be happy."

Alex didn't hear her. She was already out the door, running across London until she got to the chippy that used to be Luigi's. She went up the side steps, running down the hall until she got to the last door.

She opened it, stepping quietly in. Unfortunately, in this quietness, she heard the gun click before it was pressed to her head.

"Don't you want to go back, Alex?" his voice asked.

"How are you here? You died in 1990."

"I staged it. Don't underestimate my power, Alex. I can do whatever I like, and I can send you back."

"How?"

"All you have to do is get rid of the connection to your daughter. Kill her, and you can go back."

Alex was shocked. She couldn't kill Molly. Not even for Gene.

"No," she said quietly, but firmly. "I would never."

"It's your choice, Alex," Keats murmured. "But you know that you don't belong here now, just like you didn't belong in the eighties your first time around. That shot to the head really screwed you up, didn't it?"

"But it never happened," she protested.

"It did, Alex. But by me blowing you up, it screwed up the timeline a bit. It wasn't your time to leave either world. So now, we are on a separate string of time, all because of you."

"But I have my daughter here," she said. "That's all need."

"Wrong again, Alex," Keats said laughingly. "You need Gene. He needs you."

"No. I will not kill her."

"Suit yourself," he said, pushing her into the next room. Molly was sat on the floor, tied up and duct tape over her mouth. She whimpered when she saw Alex.

"Molls," Alex whispered.

"Your choice, Alex," Keats whispered. "You kill her, or I do."

She wished desperately in that moment for Gene, for her constant, for her saviour. Alex felt her stomach jump as the door opened. Keats kept her facing Molly as he turned.

"What are you doing here?"

"He's on his way." Her stomach fell. It was Rachel.

"Shit. Last chance Alex. Either way, I am gone within the next two minutes."

Alex shook her head. "I will not kill my daughter."

Tears leaked out of Molly's eyes as she stared gratefully at her mother. So big. She had gotten so big. She was almost an adult now.

"Fine," Keats whispered. "Its your choice."

A popping sound, heat rushing by her face. Then everything went silent as Molly slumped to the ground.

~(*)~

I can literally feel nothing. The anguish that should come with losing my daughter is not there. I tell myself it is shock. But I can't tell. My baby is gone.

"Why?" I ask suddenly.

"Because," he says, "you were never supposed to survive the car bomb. You've outlived your life by twenty-two years. Layton tried. He failed. I've already been successful once. And I shall be again."

_Gene exists_, I tell myself as I feel the hot metal against my temple. _The bullet will send me back to Gene. _

But somehow, I know in that moment, that I will never return to the eighties. I know that the reason that I had no memory in hospital in 1983 was because I had not actually returned. I know now, that these are my final breaths, that I will be reunited with my parents in just a few moments.

I see one last glimpse of my daughter, slumped over, pale, and the anguish washes over me suddenly as the world goes black.

~(*)~

**2 Days After**

Gene sat across from Chief Superintendant Clay. "Gene," the Super said. "I understand how you must be feeling, but..."

The man was silenced as Gene's warrant card fell on the desk in front of him.

"There's no point anymore, sir. I can't take it anymore. I resign."

With that, Gene walked out of the station for the last time, knowing that he was now going to have to adjust to an Alexless world.

For sixty seven days she had fought, but in the end the infection overtook her. Now she was gone and he would be alone, forever.

**to be continued.**


	11. Epilogue: 10,893 days after

**And finally...after 6 months, the final chap. Thanks to everyone that reviewed this fic and stuck with it thought it took me forever! (PS: can you tell i like to echo things as much as the writers of ashes? Face/palm)**

**Epilogue: 10,893 Days After**

Alex always used to say that people came into your life for a reason. She'd always go philosophical when she used that phrase, describing the different types of people that someone could be. She had so many different ways to describe it. Once she told me that I had kicked the door down. I have no idea what that meant, but I've always liked to think that it was a good thing.

She had always talked about leaving, but that was always just talk. She never meant it. Maybe in the beginning she did. But by 4 August, 1983, she didn't. She wanted to go on a date with me. I knew somehow that night, she wouldn't be referring to it as a 'Last Supper,' like she had on the date in 1981. She was happy in the station. I took my time to ask her on the date, confident that I'd have many opportunities to ask her.

I never realised how quickly time passes us by until the moment I saw her flat explode. In that moment, I saw all silent looks, all the flirtations at Luigi's, all the chances that I had missed. I thought I had all the time in the world, but time had its own ideas. Time laughed in my face. It laughed at my ideas, my plans, my hopes for the future. Time looked at me and told me that I had waited too long.

I waited at her bedside for sixty-seven days, worrying. I saw her improve enough to wake up. And then, because of a novice error, I saw her decline. I saw her slip back into a coma and die. I had lost her. She couldn't fight any longer. The opportunities I was so sure that I had had all disappeared. I was alone again. I knew I could no longer work at that station, so I retired.

I know they were happy to see me go. And I know that Keats was right. He had won. When I left, the station fell to shambles, just like he had promised it would.

I felt bad, but I could not continue there. I could not go into work every day, seeing that empty desk staring me in the face, gloating at me. Gloating over the fact that I had lost her. If I had not stopped for the fag, I would have been in the flat with her when that bomb went off. I would have gone into a coma with her. Maybe that meant I would have travelled to the future like she did.

But I'm not from the future. I was born in 1934. I was raised in Manchester. I lived through the forties, fifties, sixties, and seventies before I knew a woman like Alex Drake existed. If I had entered a coma with her, I wouldn't have gone anywhere.

I was never able to prevent her from dying. Not even in 2013. I was on my way up when I heard the shots. And when I burst in there, there was Ray's niece, looking shocked, and Keats, staring with a huge smile.

He laughed even as the police were handcuffing him. I moved over to the girl, the child, a bullet through the left side of her forehead. I felt for a heartbeat. I found none. I moved over to Alex. There was no doubt she was dead. I held her in my arms until they made me release her, my mind flooded with memories.

I remembered her, dressed as a prostitute, putting up a fight when I tried to get her into CID. When she thought I was corrupt. When I thought she was corrupt. All of this was remembered with stunning clarity. And then, though I tried to resist, I remembered the final 67 days of her life.

I remembered carrying her out of her flat. I remembered the panic I felt when I first saw her in the hospital, covered in bandages. I remembered the sinking feeling in my stomach when I heard her condition. I remembered the weeks that followed, the hope that grew when I realised she was getting better. The excitement after the layers of bandages were removed, leaving only the ones on her burns. Being able to see her face again, even though it was marred by scars.

I remembered her waking up, the excitement I had felt followed by the worry when I realised that she couldn't remember anything. I remembered the conversations that followed during the three days she was awake. I remembered her becoming delirious, not able to tell who doctors were, trying to fight them as they helped her. Her calling my name in her fear, unable to realise that I was there. The heat of her skin in fever.

What I remembered best though, is the sound of her final breath. It was quiet, insignificant, but there was no breath that followed. The monitor had fallen flat immediately after that, calling in the team of doctors and nurses to save her life. One by one, they had shaken their heads until finally at 9:06, her death was called.

And I remembered the last time I saw her. She was pale, her face covered in the sheen of sweat. The pink of her scars contrasted greatly with her pale face. I remembered Florence pulling me away from her bedside trying to console me.

Those memories are what made me come here today. Listening to the prayer recited by the vicar for her and her daughter, I know that I will never forget Alex Drake. The rage of fire can destroy many things. But it cannot destroy memory. And although Time is cruel, it is not cruel enough to remove my memories. Until the day I die, I carry the memory of Alex Drake. And in that way, she'll live on.

My name is Gene Hunt. It has been 10,893 days since the day _my _Alex, the 1980's Alex died. I've continued on through the eighties, the nineties, and now into the 21st century feeling as though there was something missing. My time is approaching quickly, and I only hope that we can be reunited soon. I still owe her dinner.

**Rant**


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